


Run, Run Lost Boy

by aossi



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dark, F/M, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Insecurity, Loss, Lost Love, Pride, References to Addiction, Sad, Self-Hatred, Songfic, This Is Sad, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aossi/pseuds/aossi
Summary: "Why should I blame her that she filled my daysWith misery, or that she would of lateHave taught to ignorant men most violent ways,Or hurled the little streets upon the great,Had they but courage equal to desire?What could have made her peaceful with a mindThat nobleness made simple as a fire,With beauty like a tightened bow, a kindThat is not natural in an age like this,Being high and solitary and most stern?Why, what could she have done, being what she is?Was there another Troy for her to burn?"- W.B. YEATS





	1. "She filled my days with misery."

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a much shorter exploratory drabble, mostly for me to get more into the dynamics of Harry and Evie as a ship - to explore their negatives. But then I stumbled across a song called “Lost Boy” by Ruth B. A lot of my inspiration came from the lyrics of the song and how I feel they fit Harry and his obsession with trying to impress his dad and all the crazy things this desire makes him do.  
> N.B.: Italicised = A Memory/Flashback.  
> 

_“Harry…” Evie hummed as Harry held her close to him, his arms around her waist as they lay in her bed. He couldn’t help but nuzzle into her hair, her scent was one of his favourites in the whole world; a mix of honeysuckle and Applewood. It was earthy, it was natural; it was so bloody Evie._  
_“I never want to get up.” She whispers, laying little kisses over his bare collarbone as he lets out a soft exhale, his eyes closing at the feeling of her soft lips on his skin. His mind wanders to the previous night, the heat, the intensity, the feeling of her hands on his skin. God, the girl knew how to turn him into a quivering mess just by existing, and he was an addict, caught on his fix. When they’d met he immediately fell for the princess; who wouldn’t? She was like a sin incarnate with those pouty lips, fair skin and blue locks of silky curls. But what wowed Harry most was her razor-sharp tongue. During their first testy encounters the girl had repeatedly handed the pirate his own arse at a skillful level. He was enthralled by her immediately._  
_"We can stay here forever if ye’d like, treasure.”_  
_She tilts her head up, a mischievous grin in her eyes, “Forever is a very long time, Harry Hook.”_

* * *

Harry is awoken suddenly by the sound her voice. Even in a dream, her lips speaking his name made the hairs along the back of his neck stand erect. Immediately he squints at how bright the room is. His hands subconsciously reach through the sheets before he remembers where he is, or rather, where he isn’t. He cranes his neck, looking around the room. It was messy, as usual, the air was stale, as usual, and he was alone, as usual.  
He sits up, rubbing both hands over his tired eyes as he yawns. He desperately needed water, and a toothbrush. Three thuds made him growl quietly as he dropped his hands from his face. “Harry? Are you awake yet?”

“Fuck’s sake, Gil,  _yes_.” The pirate grumbles, sighing to himself as he gets out of bed, going to the door in only undergarments. He opens it sharply, “Thought I told ye not to knock fir me before midday.”  
“You missed the action last night.” Gil explains, “I… I wanted to check in.”  
Harry nods, “I’m  _fine_ , Gil.” Harry mutters, shaking his head, “I was-“  
“Drinking. Alone. _Again_. We know.” Gil interrupts, nodding to the empty bottles strewn around the pirate's cabin. Rum, whiskey, stout. Harry's headache suddenly made a lot more sense to him. “Uma’s not happy.”  
“Ah, blast Uma anyway.” Harry snarks, “I’ve to get ready for the day, Gil, so if yer little  _check-up_  is finished I’ll be on me merry way. I suggest ye go make yourself useful somewhere above deck.”

Harry noticed the flash of hurt make its way across Gil’s features in the seconds of silence that followed, it almost gave him pleasure, watching Gil’s cheery resolve crumble within his hands.  
“... Alright, Harry.” Gil nods, his voice quiet. He turns, disappearing down the corridor quickly. Harry huffs, slamming his cabin door as he moves to get dressed. He hears a small shatter to his left, spotting a tiny blue vial in shards on the floor, covered in glittering gold.  _Pixie dust_.  
He kicks past it, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest as he reaches for the clouded bottle by the foot of his bed and sits, swigging from it gratuitously.

* * *

_The breeze picks up slightly as they emerge from the trees, a small clearing filled with flowers opening up to them. “Wow…” Evie murmurs, looking above in shock, “This is… incredible.”_  
_The pirate shrugged gently, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side as they rest against a tree. He snuggles closer to her hair as he places a short kiss to her temple, his hook pressed into her skin. “You told me ye’d never seen fairies. I figured I’d show you a whole grotto of the sodding things.”_  
_Evie stares in disbelief at the thousands of tiny, twinkling creatures as they zip around and above her head, her eyes unable to take the whole clearing in at once. She focuses on two tiny pink fairies, sitting upon a leaf just out of reach, giggling as they look down at her._

 _"They like ye.” Harry murmurs, following her gaze with a smirk._  
_"And how do you know that?”_  
_“I know how to read them; I understand them. Da gave me that blessed gift.”_  
_His sarcasm wasn’t wasted on Evie. She glances up at him, imagining a younger, sulking Harry listening to the tattering of the tiny pixies in his ears and pulling at his mussed up hair in aggravation. The idea of Harry Hook, of all people, communicating with fairies made Evie want to break down in tears with laughter._  
_“Harry Hook, you are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Evie whispers, turning to look up at the pirate. A goofy smile plasters itself across his face as he leans down, pressing his lips onto hers. That night, he finally understood why fairies danced._

* * *

Barely fifteen minutes later, he’s up on the deck, his features set in a concentrated scowl as he looks out beyond the horizon through a golden telescope. Uma strides to his side then, her arms crossed as she looks out to sea, following his gaze.  
“We’ve choppy waters on the rise, Cap’n.” Harry mutters, “Best change course, stick to the coast. We can pull back if needed.”  
Uma nods, her voice clipped, “Good. Now, can we talk about the real problem at hand?”  
“The holystone stock is bein’ replenished when we next disembark.”  
“ _Harry_.” She sighs, shaking her head at him.  
“Aye, cap'n?”  
Uma looks up at her lifelong friend, barely recognising the lost, soulless eyes that reflect her gaze. Harry had always been _unstable_ , at best, he was wicked, cruel and even sometimes pure evil, but he was always intense, he loved living for the sake of life, he always felt every feeling with every single ounce of his being. At least, he used to. Uma missed how his eyes always held a glint of malice. She hadn’t spotted that spark within him in months, come to think of it… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen any true expression, bar detachment or mild annoyance, grace his fair feature. She missed his intensity - it was what made him _Harry_.

* * *

_Evie stroked his hair gently as he lay his head in the crook of her neck. She could feel the wet streak of tears press against their connected skin._  
_“Talk to me.” She begs, “Tell me what happened.”_  
_The pirate didn’t speak. How could he? His own father had finally confirmed every single insecurity that had ever battered him late into the long night. Disowning him outright. All parental claim removed._ _He was a bastard, he was nameless, fatherless. He recounted the words in his mind; Useless. Soft. Weak. Inadequate. Meagre. Nothing._

_“Harry, please.” Evie begs quietly, laying her cheek on his forehead as she feels tears enter her own eyes. She wanted to help, she wanted to wipe away his tears and hold him together until he told her how to help. When she’d found him standing on the end of the wharf with tears streaming down his cheeks, she didn’t understand. He had been so happy this afternoon! Barely four hours ago they were wanswering through the square together, carelessly happy._

_Evie knew not of Harry’s father’s visit, she knew not of the meaning behind the visit. She didn't realise the constricting volume of pain the boy she now held was being shives through._

_Harry, being twenty-one, was now no longer a dependent. His fathers invitation to dinner was a nice surprise for Harry, the pair had never exactly had a perfect relationship, but now that Harry was an adult... maybe they could begin to work on it._ _Soon enough however, Harry discovered Hook had retyrned from his voyaging  to sever ties with his only son; two decades of shame was quite enough for the Captain. Harry knew he’d missed his chance. He’d never make his father proud. He’d never live up to his name. He was destined to be worthless, the forgotten Hook. Children would be told stories of his pathetic adventures around the Auradon coast; boys would grow up with the sole desire to never become Harry Hook. To never disgrace their family name in the same manor he had. “Please.” Evie whimpers._  
_Harry had never heard her cry before. The sound buried itself into his ears, latching into his mind and making him hiccup in a short breath. He was officially the most worthless excuse for a pirate to ever claim the title. He would never be a man his father would shake the hand of. He had made his treasure cry._

_Harry Hook had never felt so small in his entire life._

* * *

Harry sits with his knees bent, elbows rested upon them as he stares up at the stars, alone on the deck, the night air chilling him. The second to the right blinked at him viciously as he returned to his senses. He’d been zoning out more and more frequently, his mind conjuring up images of his fair Evie. He missed her. _Good God,_ he missed everything about her. Her voice, and the way her nose scrunched up when she'd smile at him in the wee hours of the morning. Though he would never admit the emptiness he felt when she’d gone; far too much pride, just like his dad.  
She’d seen him through that fateful night, the night he never spoke of. She was right there through every agonising moment. He was glad it was Evie, she hated him enough to never tell anyone of how she held him close, stroked his hair to lull him into an exhausted sleep after he cried to her until the morning's light, sitting on that rainy dock. When he’d told Uma of his desire to set sail barely two weeks later, she was surprised. He’d expressed wanting to meet each sea all his life, but in a final desperate attempt to please his father, he’d decided to push the journey to happen as soon as humanly possible. Unbeknownst to him at the time, this choice had immediately sealed his fate with his princess.

“You’re up late.”  
“You’re up early.” Harry replies quietly, his eyes still fixed on the sky. He had no idea of the time. All he knew was that his bottle of rum had run out many hours ago.  
“Here.” Uma sighed, sitting next to him. She passes him a rusted hip flask which he accepts silently. “I’ve never seen you look so lost.”  
"Those who are lost and those who are free are cut from the same cloth.” Harry mumbles, he opens the flask with his teeth, pouring a share into his mouth and swallowing.  
“Cut the cryptic poetry. What is _up_ with you, Hook? Gil told me about this morning.” Harry let her continue, unblinkingly resting his eyes on that flaming star. “It just seems like ever since Evie-“  
“Don’t ye dare speak 'er name.” Harry growls suddenly, “Captain or no captain, that name will not be uttered on this vessel.”  
“You need to talk about it, Harry! It’s been  _months_! You can’t keep lashing out at the people who care about you just because she dumped you!”

* * *

_“Harry…” Evie whispers, facing away from him, her eyes focusing on the gold-plated mirror in her hands. Her voice quivers. “I asked you a question. What are you doing with this?” The pirate continues to stare forward, wondering how the situation had gone from them lazing about in his cabin to this in a matter of seconds. He should’ve hidden it… given it to Uma, or Gil._  
Christ, he couldn’t look at her, not when he knew that shake in her voice was his fault. Not when he’d stooped this low. To steal from an enemy when their back was turned was cowardly, but to do the same to a lover?  
_“You stole my mother’s magic mirror?” Evie whispers, looking at him in dismay. That mirror was her mother's most prized possession; she’d often thought of it as her version of a hook; it was her legacy. The women she would soon grow to parallel owned that mirror before her. She thought Harry knew how special it was to her, to her family._  
_“Is that why you wanted to meet my mother? Is that what this whole charade was about?” She murmurs, stepping back as she stares at him. Harry had requested a dinner with her mother, and Evie was excited that her boyfriend would finally have the chance to impress the woman who had for so long been judgmental towards piracy, or rather, towards anything less than monarchy. Finding her mirror tucked under Harry’s jacket in his cabin the following day was like a harsh slap across the face._

 _Harry wanted to scream. Nae, nae, nae, princess. But Uma’s voice echoed in his head, “We need the magic mirror, Harry. We need a means, a trading piece, if we’re ever going to get out of here; if you’re ever going to be the son your father wanted.”_  
_He stood, “Evie… please, let me explain. I had to do this.”_  
_He didn’t understand, Evie herself had said she hated the expectations placed on her shoulders by her mother. She didn’t want to be the next Evil Queen – poison apples and all. She just wanted to be Evie; to be wicked in her own way. Harry thought this would make it easier for her to eventually stand up to her mother. Heaven’s hell, she had no problem at all standing up to him! And besides, it had been Evie who stood by him through his decision making regarding the trip!_

 _Evie moved away from Harry as he reached for her, and the pirate felt his chest ache. He wished she could understand his reasoning… but a pirate’s life was not one of simplicity, and pirates were not well versed in the art of explaining one’s motives. He didn’t want to steal from her, he was going to replace the mirror with a bigger, better one – a whole castle-full if he could - once he’d completed his voyage and won back the favour of his father. That he swore to himself before even toying with the idea of taking the bloomin’ thing!_  
_He needed the mirror to get a ship. He needed a ship to sail the seven seas. He needed to sail the seven seas to make his dad proud! It was that simple, wasn’t it?_  
_She knew his dad was everything to him, as was she. But Harry came to realise far too late that two everythings can make the world a lot more complex._  
_“Evie, please, I’ll explain everything when I get back-“_  
_“When you get back?!” Evie laughs bitterly, shaking her head as she glares at the pirate, throwing the mirror to him half-heartedly, “If you know what’s good for you, Hook, you’ll never set foot on land again.”_

* * *

A dropping pin could be heard as the words sunk into Harry’s skin, crawling under it and making him swallow uncomfortably. He remembered the day he’d completed the voyage like it was just yesterday. He remembered spending the weeks after he’d penned the request for an audience with his father waiting for a response, eager to tell of his mooring, of his tales of far off adventure. He never received one. He remembered the emptiness settling once the first of his coping strategies had run out. He remembered turning to drinking. He remembered when he stopped sleeping. He remembered everything.

He straightens, avoiding the eyes that lay on his frame as he spoke.  
“She dumped me, because I was careless.” Harry mutters, but Uma knew his heart wasn’t in it, his voice lacked the hint venom she’d felt before. “I allowed my father to destroy the one remaining good I had, the one part of me he had not touched; had not yet decimated. I have nothing left, Uma.”  
With that, Harry stood, removing his hat as he went. He retired to his cabin below deck to climb into bed in the hope tomorrow he would somehow wake up with the missing pieces of his heart magically returned to him.


	2. "Taught to ignorant men most violent ways."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains graphic violence, and some mature themes (including, but not limited to: alcoholism, sex, unhealthy coping behaviours and substance abuse).

The sky was darkening steadily, basking the ship in pink-streaked glow. After false promises of a gentle winter, the sight of a devil's sky was the last thing any of the crew wanted to see. They’d just barely battled through the difficult Autumn months, August through October had flown in a blur of choppy waves and heavy rain. November and the early weeks of December had brought harsh winds and freckled storms. By now, the eerie sunset’s presence didn’t exactly conjure up images of gentle seas, safety and sunshine. _God_ , did Harry miss sailing in the Summertime. He strolled along the deck with chin tilted high, his flask at his hip, hook on and his sword sheathed. Spotting two younger crew members they’d recruited while docked in Rocky Port a fortnight ago bickering amongst themselves like two children, Harry hesitates. He quickly realises that’s exactly what they were, both of them barely even sixteen. The few conversations he’d had with or about the pair had informed him they were brothers, youngest sons of a pirate family, sailors since before they could talk. Their father had brought them to the dock beaming with pride, eager for them to serve under a real crew, on a real ship, under a real captain. Harry couldn’t help but feel some sort of mild hostility towards the pair. _Imagine having it that easy. Having yer whole world handed t’ye like that must be just swell._  
“ _Eh_.” He growls, glaring at the squabbling pair. Immediately they stop, staring wide-eyed at the man. “Stop yer whinin’, n’ get back t’work.”  
“Aye, sir.” The shorter of the pair nods, “Apologies.”

Harry nods dismissively as he continues past them, his eyes landing on Uma standing upon the forecastle deck, leaning forward to inspect the bow. He approaches her in a relaxed stride, his eyes following hers over the edge.  
“When was our last keelhauling?” The captain asks, scrunching her brow. “Damn bow is scaled with them again.”  
“I’ll ensure th'next swab who steps out will smartly receive a scraper, Captain.”  
“Thank you, Harry.”

Uma glances at him then, some time had passed since she’d taken a good look at her first mate. His features were still just as pleasing as they’d always been, as they’d grown up she’d viewed him as the textbook embodiment of attractiveness. From his deep blue eyes, the exact colour of harsh ocean beneath them; the exact colour of his father’s, though duller now, to his head of dark hair. It had begun to grow out from the months at sea, and it now sat messily atop his head. Though he’d tried to cut it himself with a dagger, it never sat as neatly as it had before. Uma felt it made him look more wild, and wild suited Harry. He looked good physically, bar the chapped lips and dark circles under his eyes from his habitual sleepless nights spent drinking on the upper deck.  
She wished he’d be more careful; she wished he wouldn’t drink as much as he did. Often during a raid or planned hit she’d find herself unable to see the pirate, and her mind would go to the worst. Eventually she’d find him, toying with one of his poor victims before finally taking his hook or sword to their neck. He’d become a merciless killer, and earned himself quite a reputation among the gossiping community. It was one of the few times he showed even the smallest signs of the old Harry, his spark of intensity rearing its head. Uma was unsure if she was relieved, or terrified.

* * *

" _Harry.” Uma warned, watching as he backed the captain of the small royal vessel against the ship’s helm. His eyes were wild, pupils blown as he smirks down at the quivering man. He couldn’t have been any older than Harry himself. The pirate barely even hears his captain’s warning as he barks at his prey._  
_“How’s the king keepin’?” Harry questions, his voice drenched in hostility, running his hook over the man’s jaw._  
_“T-the king?!”_  
_"Aye. The king.” Harry hums, “This here ship is part of a royal fleet, correct? You have the royal family’s emblem all over yer sails, I’m puttin’ one and one together.”_  
_The man nods quickly, trembling beneath him. He sheepishly looks up at Harry with wide eyes. “We’re delivering silks for the queen… Please, pirate. I-I have a wife. And family. Show mercy.”_  
_“A wife.” Harry muses. “I bet she’s a beauty, hm? Tell me sailor, do ye prefer blondes or brunettes?”_ _Harry hums in satisfaction as the man begins to cry out in pain. Moving closer, Harry begins placing further presser on his hook as it rests over the man’s jugular, he could feel the skin turning to butter under his blade. It made him want to scream out with joy._  
_“Yeno…” he starts colloquially, “I’ve always been fond of darker hair, more mystery, ye see. But it appears t’me that you and I wouldn’t have that in common. It seems to me… you’re a canvas shy of a full sail, matey. Asking a pirate for mercy?” Harry chuckles, shaking his head. He darkens, voice low. “I’m afraid, ye’ll find no quarter here.”_  
_Uma watched as he tore the man’s throat through, her eyes landing on Harry as he laughs to himself.  
_ _"That was… unnecessary.” Uma mutters. Eyeing Harry as he tosses the limp man away from him, shaking the blood from his hands, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe off his hook._

* * *

"We're heavier a'float after last night." Harry remarks, "We may need to figure out a way of lightening the load if business continues to be so steady."

Their coin was stocked heavily after their bountiful few months of pillaging. Harry, Uma and Gil had never had so much to spare in their lives. Uma had somehow convinced the boys to help deplete the stash through a bit of shopping at the last few ports. Harry kept his spending quite contained; some new knickknacks for his cabin, new bedding to keep him warm for the Winter months, and a new golden pocket watch. He’d also replaced his tattered leather coat with a more luxurious one. The shaded red leather now sat perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, unmarked and high quality. He’d invested in some new boots, so well shined you could see your own reflection in the leather. He’d bought new trousers, and hell, his new shirts now even had _sleeves_! With his bounty and new accessories, to those outside of his close circle at least, it would appear Harry Hook was on top of his game. But Uma and Gil… they knew he was still the broken soul disowned by his father and longing for his lover. No amount of gold or trinkets would change that.

They saw it in the hatred that ran through him for his father. When anyone even mentioned his family or brought up his father in conversation his face would harden, and he’d immediately attempt to shift the conversation topic or remove himself from the situation it entirely. They could see it in the empty stare he sometimes fell into during the chaos of a raid, the mania around him acting as a shield for him to lower his own barriers; he knew no one would pay enough attention to see him.

* * *

_Harry slumped against the oak doors, the ringing in his ears unyielding. Whoever thought firing the damn canon was a good plan would receive a serious earful from him as soon as he could hear his own voice again. He loved sparing with enemy ships at night, it gave him a rush - a chance to explore life aboard another's vessel. It was like playing pretend the way he did when he was a boy, only now the swords were sharp. He'd taken down three crew members already, leaving Uma and the crew to have their own fun as he wandered below deck, scouting the vessel for anything of value.  He shoves open the doors of the captains quarters with vigour. Animal skin rugs, jugs of wine, fancy portraits; pretentious pirates were his least favourite._

_He breathlessly wipes at his bloodied nose, his eyes lurching around the room. He spots an apple on the captain's desk and finds his feet automatically shuffling over to it. Picking it up, he examines the surface. He grazes the waxy skin with his calloused fingers and swallows against the bile rising from his stomach. She had taught him how to identify every known poison on the surface of an apple. Ask yourself, how even is the colour, does water sit atop the surface or run down, does the apple smell unusually sweet, like thick toffee?_ _Harry eyes the apple once more. Just a boring, old apple. His eyes fill with tears._ _He grunts as he throws the apple across the room, the fruit splitting into several pieces as it hits a mantel. His head spins as he slumps against the surface of the desk, crying out.  
_ _Hot tears spill down his gun power soaked cheeks, his chest burning._

 _He knew nothing of her anymore, he knew not where she was, who she now resided with on the Isle, if she had found new love.  
_ _His treasure had been ripped from him by his own hook, and he still loathed himself for it each day._

* * *

Too many times both Uma and Gil had noticed the smaller details of Harry’s heartache, they’d begun to see the patterns of different behavioural mechanisms he’d taken up to cope. He drank in order to feel controlled, he slept in order to prevent himself from thinking too much, he murdered, looted and tortured to feel powerful. He was hyper-aware of everything those around him said, and he chose his own words very carefully. He was the embodiment of control, of awareness and of order. Many thought it was a family trait, but Uma knew it was because he himself felt so utterly out of control emotionally that it was paralysing. He asserted himself by controlling the things around him so he felt more grounded. 

This trait had always been part of his personality, though far less extreme. Harry was always notably controlled when it came to relationship and intimacy. With Uma, with Gil, with his sisters, and especially with Evie. Uma had noticed his excessive caution when handling the princess, he always made sure she was safe, cared for, comfortable. He’d confided in Uma many times about his worries related to finally consummating their relationship. It would be his first, and to his knowlwedge, Evie's. The idea of being so connected to someone chilled him to the core. Any sort of attachment was extremely difficult for the pirate, he never quite trusted himself with those he loved. Uma felt it was a lot to do with the relationship he held with his father.

* * *

_Harry smiles to himself as Evie leans on his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his bicep._  
_“Must you spend so long sharpening that god forsaken hook?” She sighs dramatically. She’d been whinging at him to hurry at it for most of the morning. “It has to be sharp as that wit of yours, treasure.”_  
_“You might want to keep at it awhile longer then.” Evie hums, making Harry chuckle._  
_He places the hook and whetstone aside, turning to pull her into his lap, his hands on her waist._  
_“Now, ye have my full attention.” Evie grins, leaning close to kiss him. Harry felt the only accurate way to describe Evie’s lips was: sinful._  
_She kissed him like she was about to leave him every single time their lips touched. It made Harry's knees weak. Evie’s lips told stories of the ancient gods to his own when they met. She gave just as good as she got, and Harry didn’t feel any shame in admitting that he knew his skill level when it came to kissing; he’d been told by many a’lass his lips were like those of the devil himself._  
_Evie moans softly into his mouth, Harry tugs her closer by the waist; he couldn’t have her close enough in moments like these. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders as she straddles him, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the world around them slipping away, it was just Evie. All of it – Evie, Evie, Evie._

 _" Harry…” She whimpers, making the boy’s head swim. How did she turn him into putty every time she spoke his blimpin’ name?! He needed to stop before he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He needed to re-establish himself quickly; the familiar alarm bells in his head were ringing loud and clear._  
_"Right. Time out.” Harry whispers, pulling back from her lips and leaning his head back on the wall; breathless. Evie herself pants lightly her hair mussed and her cheeks pink. Her hand on his jaw moved to stroke at his hair, scratching his scalp how she knew he liked._  
_“We stopped.”_  
_“Ay.” Harry nods, slowing his breathing down as best he could with her still atop his lap, still looking so kissable; he knew his mother, had he known her, would slap him if she heard the things he wished to do to his treasure. But he would never let himself lose control with Evie, it was too dangerous for the both of them._  
_“What if… we didn.t” Evie suggests, her voice quiet; cautious. “Stop, I mean.”_  
_Harry eyes her, his thumb moving to stroke across her swollen lips, “Don’t jump in to soon, love. The waters of lust can be treacherous.”_

* * *

His controlled natured meant Harry was usually always the one to come up with plans. Plans of attack, journey itineraries, financial plans, all of it was down to Harry. He kept the ship running smoothly, and Uma was glad it could distract him from downing the contents of his flask before breakfast. Along with his love of planning came Harry's hatred of wasted time. This meant taking breaks and disembarking was not his favourite way to spend an evening when they could be  _sailing, raiding or otherwise sticking to his_ _schedule_. When they occasionally  _did_  disembark the ship for the night, deciding to partake in some well-earned drinking in the local tavern of whatever port they had graced, Uma and Gil always preyed Harry would maybe meet a girl, allow himself to let loose, maybe even give in to his carnal desires Though he loved to drink, and lacked the self-control he needed to prevent himself from giving in to his desires regarding alcohol, he had self-control by the bucket load when it came to his libido. He never turned to women to satisfy his needs, though god knew he had many, in each different tavern of each different port, they watched his refusal to entertain the advances of the countless women who threw themselves at him.

* * *

  _“She was pretty.” Gil grins, sitting down in the now empty seat across the table from Harry. The blonde who’d previously been occupying it had given up after nearly ten minutes of trying to converse with the uninterested pirate._  
“Ay, she was.” Harry nods, rolling his glass to the side slightly, watching the ice cubes clink together.  
_“I think she likes you.”_  
_Harry doesn’t respond, simply taking a swig from his drink and looking around the busy tavern, seeing Uma chatting intensely with a ruffian by the bar. He drinks again._  
“You should talk to her.” Gil states, directing Harry’s eyes to the girl as she sat by the bar alone.  
Harry didn’t miss the little smile on her face when she noticed him looking.  
_“No can do, Gil.”_  
_“Why not? You’re single! She obviously thinks you’re attractive!”  
__“Me heart belongs to another.” Harry murmurs, returning his eyes to his best friend. “A pirate’s heart only has one mistress, ye know; she’s blue, she’s cruel and she’s all we crave.”_

 _  
Though Gil knew he meant the sea, he couldn’t help but think a small part of his best mate was speaking of his beloved Evie. The parallels were painfully obvious._

* * *

Slowly but surely, Uma began to notice more and more similarities between the young man and his father. The few times she’d spent with James Hook had been unpleasant at best. From his unpredictability to his wicked nature, and his fascination with the demise of one Peter Pan, Captain James Hook was quite the character. Uma attributed a lot of Harry's more demented traits to his father. His obsessive tendencies, his flair for the dramatics, his wild nature - they were all aspects learned by the boy from his dad during his younger years. Uma had witnessed Harry's long-running insecurities suddenly manifest themselves into his own wicked ways during the weeks after his twenty first birthday. But Hook's disinterest in Harry had not come from the blue, there were signs throughout Harry's life of his father's parental lethargy regarding his son. 

Harriet, the eldest of the Hook children was the apple of her father's eye; and his little apple could do no wrong. Despite several incidents that seemed to incriminate Harriet, her father saw past her many mistakes, always taking her into his arms and rubbing her hair gently, chiding and reassuring her.  
_"The world is your oyster, my fair little Harriet. You will, one day, rule the sea as pirate queen, you will own and sail every ocean."  
_ CJ, Harry's baby sister was treated much the same - Hook had nicknamed her his _"water baby_ " before she was even of school-going age. A name earned after she had somehow managed to fall overboard nearly eighteen times in her first few years toddling the deck of the Jolly Roger.

It showed James Hook had indeed got the potential to be a hands-on, caring father... to all but his only son. This hurt Harry even more, and he spent many years trying to figure out why exactly his father hated him and only him. Why couldn't he be more like CJ? Why didn't he make his da proud in the ways Harriet did?

Much to Uma's dismay, the infamous captain spent much of the little time he actually spent with his only son, belittling him publicly. She remembered how blasé he was about Harry’s achievements in school. Harry had always been naturally intelligent, passing all of his classes with flying colours at Serpent Prep; though he did struggle with time telling simply due to the lack of practice he had. His da always said clocks were the devil's instrument, but Harry thought the gently ticking was soothing. Harry was also one of the school’s best contact sportsmen attending SP, winning many awards for his athletic talents as well as his academic feats, which was more than could be said about the other Hook children. CJ struggled in many classes, finding school as a whole disinteresting and tiresome, while Harriet preferred to cut school completely, choosing to swim in the isle's eastern lagoons each day instead, collecting things for her father's store.

* * *

_“Accelerated piracy; A+. Wickedness; A-. Scheming 101; A+.  Advanced Trechery. A.”_  
_Harry’s father scans his sons report card slowly, looking at it through his eyeglass as young Harry stands by his side at the entrance to Serpent Prep, chewing his lip as he nods in response to each grade._  
_“Best grades of our year.” Uma smirks proudly. “And an award from the Ruthless Rugby League. Good job, Harry.”_  
_His father begins reading off the comments from his tutors aloud._  
_“Harry shows the potential of a great villain, he applies himself well, his work is always of excellent quality. And his natural flare for the wicked arts is obvious… Mr. Hook is involved, clever and a credit to his name… Harry will make a terribly good villain in coming years._  
_Harry lets little smile form as his father finishes. Hook hums, ripping the school report in half before carelessly tossing it aside. Harry’s eyes watch as the pieces of paper flutter to the ground._  
_"I’m insulted by these imbeciles. How dare they think they have the right to count you a ‘credit to your name’. These letters are meaningless, boy. A waste of my good time.”_  
_Harry nods softly, “Apologies, father. I’ll do better, I swear it.”_  
_The captain doesn’t reply, instead he scoffs irritably, walking away from his son, “You better be home for dinner.”  
_ _Uma had never felt such a fiery rage fill her as she watched her best friend’s eyes hit the ground, heavy with shame._

* * *

“It’s going t’be a bad ‘un.” Harry murmurs, looking at the sky. “Never seen a sky so angry, me.”  
“Perhaps we should retire to Corona for the festival.”  
Harry refutes; they couldn’t waste any more time, they were supposed to be arriving in Glowerhaven in three short weeks!  
“Captain, I don’t think that’s a very good idea, we’re already behind schedule since that blasted sail ripped and-”  
Uma shakes her head, touching the boys shoulder to silence him, “We could snap an entire mast if the stormwinds are cruel enough, Harry. I don’t think the risks will outweigh the payoff.”

And so, it was decided, _The Lost Revenge_ and its crew were to dock in the kingdom of Corona for a fortnight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is received even half as well as the first!  
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read the workings of my lunacy. x


	3. "Had they but courage equal to desire?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably now know, this fic wasn't meant to be multi-chaptered, but yet here we are! This story has completely taken over my mind.  
> Also, the amazingly talented Detriotbydark has thought up the most wonderful headcanon for Harry's mother and it is magnificent! You can read it here: https://detroitbydark.tumblr.com/post/164871559297/headcannon-harrys-mother-all-three-hook-children#notes
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying updating it, and thank you to everyone who's commented so far, you're all so kind. x

Three weeks. That’s when the forecasters predict the seas will finally calm down. The worst Winter in fifty years is what they’re calling it, but Harry, now slowly becoming re-accustomed to life ashore, enjoys the bitter cold as he walks the length of the Corona strip each morning. He likes the grounded feeling he now experiences, though the swaying of the sea will always be his biggest comfort. The grey clouding and occasional bouts of morning snow turn his cheeks childishly pink, but admittedly, he loved the silence they brought. No crew murmuring about his drinking problems far too loudly for it to be unheard, no Uma and Gil with their worried glances and whispered conversations. Sometimes he felt like was standing at the end of the plank with everyone watching him so carefully that no one was even paying enough attention to notice that they themselves were pushing him closer and closer to the edge as time passed.  
He took a deep breath in as he stands in the freezing sand, the blue waves stroking the shoreline lazily. He thought about the past months for the first time. The blur of the Spring, then Summer through to the cold mornings of Winter, and he quickly realised it had nearly been a year since. His twenty-second birthday was fast approaching, faster than Harry wished it to. His birthdays were never an overtly joyous occasion, with his father’s detachment, and the fact he knew nothing at all of his maternal parentage, there were very few special memories he held in association with the anniversary of his birth.

* * *

_Sniffling, Harry removes the party hat Harriet had painstakingly crafted for him with her best oil crayons and scotch tape. He climbs atop his bunk aboard the Jolly Roger, wiping his exhausted eyes as his short legs hang over the edge. It was nearing nightfall and his ‘special’ day was slowly dragging to an end. In many ways, Harry couldn’t wait until it was all over. He was bizarrely excited to awake tomorrow morning with his ability to blend into the background back in his grasp. Two gentle knocks cause him to lift his head._  
_“Master Harry?” A warm voice asks from the other side. Harry hops off his bunk, the party hat falling to the floor without his knowledge, and goes to meet his visitor._  
_Mr. Smee stood behind the door, red cap in hand as little Harry looks up at him with bleary eyes. He wipes away the tears that track down his cheeks, stepping to the side to allow Smee entrance._  
_“I wanted to come by and make sure you were alright.” Smee explains as the little boy trudges back to his bed meekly.  
_ _“I’m alright.”_

 _Smee looks down at the miserable slight of a boy his captain had fathered. He never understood the Captain’s utter hatred of the poor lad. He could remember a time when Harry was only a babe, how he would stumble across the Captain watching him sleeping peacefully in his bassinette, stroking Harry’s little tuffs of dark hair with his finger. It felt like only moments had passed, but everything was so incredibly different now. Smee sighs, kneeling and touching the boys shoulder gently._  
_“You can’t go to sleep upset on your sixth birthday, Master Harry.” Harry looks up at him as he continues, “I have something for you. Wrapped it myself!”_  
_He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little box, tied up with red ribbon, handing it to Harry._  
_The young lad unties the ribbon slowly, popping the lid off the black box and peering inside. Within the box, nestled in velvet was a thin length of silver chain, looped into a bracelet, much too big for Harry’s tiny wrists. “That chain is very special, Harry. Someday you will come to understand it’s importance… yer father made me dispose of the entirety of it a few years back… but I wanted you to have a piece of it.”_  
_Harry doesn’t quite understand, but it was the only present he’d gotten and that made it very special. Smee turned to the boy's bedside table, finding the hook Harry's father had gotten made for his firstborn son when he was barely a week old. It was adult sized, ready for Harry to grow into it in due course; he connected the chain to it so it sat wrapped around the base like a decoration, almost blending entirely with the hook's silver. “Thank you, Mr. Smee.”_  
_Smee smiles distractedly, picking up the party hat and handing it back to the boy quietly.  
"Happy Birthday, Harry."_

* * *

Harry makes his way back to the bedding the crew had been staying at just after sunrise, an empty house just at the edge of the village, not long ago abandoned and large enough to accommodate the twenty-strong crew. He takes the long way, wandering through town as Corona slowly comes to life. Shops light up, their doors being unlocked for the trading day ahead, the fountain in the town square had boiling water poured over it by a royal steward, in attempts to melt the thick layer of ice covering its pool. Harry watches it all impartially, his freezing hands hidden in his pockets.

He slips inside the house quietly, knowing many of the crew will still be asleep. As he passes through he finds Uma sitting beside the smouldering lounge fire in a shirt of Gil’s. He tosses a chunk of wood atop the ash pile, poking at the tendrils of flame roughly, before sitting at her side. When he sits, she passes him her cup of black tea. He accepts it, sipping at it a few times before handing it back. He often felt pity for his captain, dealing with their crew was a handful without the extra worry he provided for her. He wished she would stop concerning herself with his broken heart. He knew she would never be able to patch it up, no matter how often or hard she tried. She often exhausted herself so much that Harry would spot the shadows under her eyes when she appeared in the mornings, a little smile to greet him; he knew she’d been up late thinking again.  
_Wretched girl, look after yourself!_  
“You took your time walking today.” She remarks quietly, watching the fire flicker.  
Harry nods, “I walked th’strip; was thinkin’.”  
“That’s dangerous. I don’t trust that mind of yours.” Her tone was teasing, but her heart wasn’t in it. There was too much truth behind the statement. Uma takes his hands into hers, holding them together in an effort to warm him. “You’re like _ice_ , Harry.”  
He nods, knowing she was never too tired to face his sarcasm, “Wee bit chilly out there, ye know.”  
She rolls her eyes at his cheeky remarks, moving closer to help him warm up, the fire aiding in her work. The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Harry pipes up.  
“Ye haven’t been sleeping.” Harry mumbles, avoiding her eyes. “What’s worrying that head of yours? As gorgeous as ye are when yer brooding, Gil is worried. As am I.”  
The sea witch sighs softly, “I just... I keep thinking about the isle and how much I miss home; how easy everything used to be. Not that I want to rush back there or anything… it’s just harder now. We were just kids, Harry, we thought we had the whole world figured out.”

Harry nods softly, the last few months had really tested them, all of them. Uma, Gil and Harry had dragged each other through by the skin of their teeth. When Uma moves to speak again, Harry hears her voice quiver.  
“I just miss how things were; I miss being careless. I don’t want the crew to think I’m weak for… being nostalgic.”  
Harry shakes his head as she rubs her palms against the back of his hands gently.  
“Nobody thinks you’re weak, Uma. Yer the strongest person I’ve ever met.”  
Uma eyes him silently. She almost wanted to laugh, he was calling her the strong one, giving her comfort for her sleepless mind keeping her at the verge of slumber. Harry was the one who’d been through heartache after heartache and still come back from it. Scarred, broken and battered though he may be, he was still there. He was still Harry.  
“I could say that same for you.”  
Harry glances at her as she drops her gaze to their hands. Harry Hook truly was one of the best things to ever come stumbling into her life, the boy brought out so many good parts of her, he always knew what she was thinking before the thought was even fully processed by her melancholy brain. And she hoped she’d done the same for him.  
“Uma, you’ve always been a great friend to me.”  
“I love you too, Hook.”

Harry couldn’t find better words to explain how he felt to her, he found emotions much harder to deal with now, but then again, Uma always seemed to know what he was trying to say no matter how vaguely worded or roundabout the statement may be.  
The silence that followed was such a contrast to the cold silence Harry had surrounded himself in that morning. This silence was warm, it was full of admiration and mutual respect. He knew he would never be able to put into words the monumental gratitude he felt for all the ways Uma had saved him. But she had, in fact, she had saved him in nearly every way a person could be saved. The best thanks he could offer was remaining a loyal server of her cause for the rest of his days.  
“Ye know,” Harry begins, breaking the silence, “When I was a young ‘un and I found it near impossible to sleep, Harriet would tell me stories of the sea.”  
Harry’s sister being five years Harry’s senior made her feel like his protector of sorts when he was young, though their father had made an effort to keep them as separated as possible while growing up on a ship, Harriet often found ways of spending fleeting moments with her younger brother, including sneaking into his cabin at the back of the cargo hold at night to help him fall asleep.  
“She told me a story once, of a young lad who fell in love with a siren lass.” Harry begins, his voice soft as his mind drifts back to his sister’s voice in his ear. He remembered the words by heart. 

* * *

" _Battling heaving waves and low tides on a small vessel was proving difficult for the crew of the Marbella Drifter. John, the youngest of the pirate crew, was on watch at the bow when the ship met toil just after midnight. Slamming into a reef and cracking the stern. Soon after the Drifter was dragged beneath the waves, along with every soul aboard.  
__Watching the scene play out was a young siren, she’d become fascinated with sinking ships as a girl. Though her kind usually played an active part in the demise of crews in these waters, tonight she was simply a bystander to the sea’s own cruelty. John had caught her eye early in the evening, his muscled shoulders and kind voice had sent a shiver through her, one she had never felt before._ _She had pulled him from the wreckage beneath the waves, her arms around his middle tightly as she swam him to shore, his body limp. She lay him on the beach carefully, peering down at his handsome features and putting a hand to his cheek, her other hand digging into the sand, supporting her upper body over his. She watched over him carefully for hours, his shallow breath gradually becoming stronger, until close to sunrise, he opened his eyes gingerly. He was met with the gaze of the beautiful creature who had saved him. Tail, scales and bare human skin combined, he was intrigued. He’d heard stories of creatures such as her residing in these waters. Sitting up, he lifted hand to her jaw. She leaned into his gentle touch. “You saved me.”_

 _She had nodded softly, nervous, but the sailor simply leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, captivated by the beauty he was faced with._ _The pair lived alongside one another for many years, John settling on the island, building a home for himself. Each morning his siren would come, awaiting him on the beach, where they would spend their day together, speaking of their childhoods, their homes, their dreams. Slowly, she noticed his skin lose its smoothness, his hair grew grey at the roots, while she remained the same. She was beside herself with concern, but John simply shrugged the worry away, reminding her they would always have one another to turn to in times of destress. One sunny morning, the siren waited on the beach as she always had, John had become an elderly man, and it sometimes took him longer to arrive at the beach for their time together._

 _She waited. She waited for days for the sailor to emerge from the tree line, but he never did. Eventually, the young siren left the island completely, the beach now too lonely for her to stand, she returned to her kind, and was welcomed with open arms. For every siren understood the pains of love lost to the bitch so many simply called ‘time’. Love to them was like carbon to the rustling trees. They lived it, took it in, made it their own source of power._  
_Soon, began joining her sisters in singing sailors to sleep each night, watching as their ships slipped beneath the waves. But every night, upon every ship, she swore just as it disappeared beneath the waves into stark silence, she could hear John calling for her to come home."_

 _Harry’s little snores were like music to her ears as she finished the tale, pushing aside a strand of dark hair that had fallen to rest in his face, she sighs, closing the storybook’s intricately designed pages with a muted thud._  
_“Sleep tight, Harry.” She mumbles, pecking his forehead before slipping out of the bed and tip-toeing back to her own cabin across the ship, the book tucked under her arm._  
_Ten-year-old Harriet never questioned her father on anything, thinking him all-knowing and wiser than even the wizard Yen Sid of the Isle, but his treatment of her little brother often left her with a sour taste in her mouth. She thought Harry to be an intelligent and sensitive young boy, and much, much nicer than any other five year olds she knew. But if her father said Harry was worthless, thick-skulled and meek then that is what he was; perhaps she was just too young to see it._

* * *

Several hours later Harry woke in the same place on the lounge floor, now alone, surrounded by the sound of chatter and footsteps. It must have been mid-morning by now, and the smell of breakfast had his stomach jerking. He yawned, standing and stretching before making his way to the kitchen to eat. As he chewed at his breakfast of meat and eggs, he reflected back on the story he’d recited to Uma earlier that morning. It sickened him now, how John and the siren never knew more than their beach and their little island; how they could love each other freely in such primitive circumstances.  
It had been a long time since Harry thought about love, at any capacity. He tended to try to avoid it like the plague. He had been burned once, and he didn’t exactly want to allow himself to be caught in the same way again. Love was now simply a weakness in his eyes. He had loved his father, he had loved Evie, and both of those relationships had ended with his heart in shards. _What was the point?_

However, during late nights alone in his chamber, he would sometimes allow Evie’s face to slip into his mind, and would file through their memories with tears slipping out of his tired eyes, silently wishing she would appear and he could wrap her up in his arm, shower her with apologies and “‘I love you”s.

* * *

_Harry couldn't hide his wide smile as she approached him atop the hill, her brow furrowed in annoyance as the wind rippled around her, her sapphire hair flying freely. Harry thought it made her even more striking than normal, it conjured up thoughts of how she looked during a passionate night together in his kip on the Lost Revenge. How her hair would lay splayed out over his pillow as he hovers above, laying kisses and tender nips over her exposed skin._  
_“You better have a good reason for dragging me up here, Hook. My hair was not made for these gusts.”_  
_Harry chuckles, taking her hand as she reaches him._  
_“Hush now, ye look beautiful.” He murmurs, leaning down to peck her lips. He doesn’t miss the blush that meets her cheeks in response to his compliments. “I want te show ye something.”  
_ _He leads her through the hilltop forest, her hand clasped in his as they walk together quietly. He stops at the edge of a cliff, looking out over the wharf, the sea stretching out in front of them. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it where he was most comfortable – overlooking his one true domain. It was a sight to behold, the blue sky over the blue water, his blue haired darling sat by his side as his heart thudded in his chest. Now, he thinks, it’s perfect. He sits, gesturing for her to do the same, which she does; a fleeting concern for her outfit long forgotten as soon as Harry breaks their silence._

 _“Evie. I’ve been trying to understand my feelings fir ye for a long time. I’ve been racking my brain on a way to tell ye how exactly I feel about ye and the words just don’t seem to convey the magnitude of it all, but they’re all I’ve got.” The pirate’s voice was low, solemn. Evie could hear sincerity in every word. “I’m absolutely, totally and blindly mad about ye; I love ye, more than I’ve ever loved a single thing in me life. It scares me just how deep the things I feel for ye are, treasure. It scares me how much I want ye, how amazing it feels knowing yer mine. Nothing terrifies me more than knowing how much power you hold over me.”_  
_He inhales quickly, the words rushing out of him, making him breathless._  
_“Being yours had made me a better man than I’d ever be without ye, loving you, making you happy is my favourite pastime. You’re the best thing that has ever come into my pathetic life, Evie. And I swear to you I’ll never hurt ye, I’ll never do ye wrong. I want ye to understand just how important ye are to me, my treasure… I-I’d die for ye.”  
_ _Evie simply looks up at him, shaking her head, “Harry Hook, if you think for a second that I don’t feel everything – every single thing – that you have just described to the same extent you do.”_

 _Harry’s smile returns, his eyes gleaming. Evie swore to herself in that moment she would do anything to keep that smile on his face. “If you don’t kiss me right this second, I’ll-”_  
_His lips on hers cut her off, her hands move to his cheeks as he tugs her closer. Evie pushes at his chest, and Harry follows orders and lays down, his back meeting the grass as they kiss. Harry couldn’t get enough of the feeling of her lips on his own, his entire body felt like a live wire was zapping him in the chest. Evie hummed against his lips, a giggle leaving her, “Do your worst, pirate.”  
_ _Harry just about growled at her, she was teasing him! She climbed over him, her body pinning him to the grass as his hands slip to her hips, his teeth biting at her bottom lip. Harry lets out a rough groan as she lowers her kisses to his neck._ _They were just two kids, two lunatics in love who simply couldn’t get enough of each other. Evie’s body and mind were like heroin to Harry Hook, and his fix was right there, ready for the taking. He was hers, she was his, and in Harry’s mind, it was a permanent contract._

* * *

Loud laughter brings Harry back to startling reality, and he glances up at the men surrounding the kitchen table grabbing his hip flask with a trembling hand. He gulps down a few mouthfuls to calm himself, trying to catch up with the conversation but finding no notion in the exchange in front of him. He notices Gil’s eyes resting on him, a worried grimace in place of his normally calm features. Harry didn’t understand why, he listened then.  
“Ye heard right! Young royalty from all across the sixteen kingdoms, all of them here!” One man laughs, “Have ye ever heard the likes of it? For a Winter festival and all! Good, bad, ugly, beautiful – all of them!”  
The table laughs out in response, “Eyes peeled, lads, we may find ourselves a princess each yet!”  
“Right here in Corona? What a spell of luck that is, mateys!”  
“Tonight we hit the taverns, men; aye, I’ve not had a royal wrench grace me sheets yet!”   
Harry’s chest constricts as he listens, his eyes conveying sheer panic for a split second before he stands, his chair scrapping the wooden floor loudly. The conversation dies suddenly at the interruption, each of the men snapping their gaze to him. Harry simply stalks from the room with an unreadable look gracing his features, his breakfast unfinished. Gil follows him quickly, finding him at the front of the house taking deep, calming breaths, pacing across the threshold of the door. He couldn’t see her. She couldn’t be here… if he saw her he was done for.  
“Harry?” He asks, cautiously stepping towards his friend.  
What should he do? They couldn’t sail! It was too dangerous, they’d die before they even passed the outer reefs!  
“W-we have te … I have te…” The words hung in the air like a heavy raincloud, suffocating Harry as he looks at Gil. “She’s here, Gil. I’m here. _She’s_ here! I don’t know what t’do.”  
“She _might_ be here. An invitation was sent… that doesn’t mean she accepted it! Or that she made it before the storm warnings grounded everything south of the Moors!”

Harry nods, his heart hammering as he paces. He never thought he’d be faced with this situation, he never guessed Evie might be here in Corona, unable to leave thanks to their harsh Winter. _Good gods of hell, even the weather was betting against his dwindling sanity_!  
“I don’t want to see her. I _can’t_ see her! Ah, blast it! I want to – of course I want to! I want to know she’s okay… I-I want to make sure she - No, oh, wretched hell!”  
Harry’s eye’s wander towards the village as Gil comes closer, putting to hands on his shoulders and stilling him.  
“Gil.” He murmurs, his stare unwavering. “What should I do?”  
Gil gives his friend a little smile, “You should come back inside, we can talk to Uma and we can get through it, alright? You’re not in this alone, Harry. It’s gonna be ok.”  
Harry nods gently, tearing his eyes from the distant busyness of Corona’s streets. He follows Gil as he leads him back inside. The tightness in his chest never quite left him throughout the remainder of the day.


	4. "Nobleness made simple as a fire."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up at the Winter Festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaack.  
> I am so, so excited to finally upload this chapter, it's the longest one so far at just under 4250 words! Which is crazyI hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> Also, I've joined tumblr so you can head on over there if you want some extra content or little check ups throughout the writing process! It's: aossi.tumblr.com
> 
> Also they AMAZING ForeverDelighted had made a gift set for this fic and it is INCREDIBLE! I got so emotional when I realised someone loved this world enough to create something inspired by it, she in a darling and you need to check her out if you haven't already!
> 
> You can view the gifset here: https://eviarry.tumblr.com/post/165025434618/run-run-lost-boy-by-aossi-a-pirates-heart-only
> 
> All my love. x

Harry sits on the garden wall at the back of the house for hours that night, after such a hectic, anxiety-fuelled day he felt completely emotionally spent. He didn’t want to even consider the idea Evie had somehow wound up here; it was far too much for his disquieted mind to cope with. He listened as Uma and Gil had spelled out just how unlikely it was that she had even arrived with the previous few day’s weather being so opposing. No sound-minded sailor would launch a ship into those waves, especially with royalty aboard. Harry knew she had a point, but he also knew the universe had demonstrated a rather prominent love for creating misery within his life. He didn’t trust logic anymore. Eerily calm, Harry had excused himself quietly when they’d finished. He’d remained silent through most of the conversation, his eyes rather unfocused on the pair as they paced around his seated figure. Uma was worried, and rightly so, nothing positive ever came from Harry and his quiet brooding. The sky had grown dark and clouded through the day, Harry had spent most of it out of the house, wandering the surrounding wood with a bottle, or two, in hand. He’d swigged it, thinking languidly about how not to think. Now, as it hit midnight, Harry realised it was the first night in nearly six months he couldn’t spot a single star.

He was drunk, he knew that much. He’d fallen off the wall twice trying to wipe a smudge of mud from his left boot. The smudge was still present and he knew in a few moments he would forget about his impaired co-ordination and very well try to wipe at it again. He also knew he should be worried about catching his death if he sat outside much longer, but he’d fallen into freezing waters, hiked snowed beaches and hills and been iced out by a princess. He could hand cold; internally and externally. He’d dwelled on the thought of seeing Evie again several times, imagining what he would say to the girl.  
“I’ve missed you” didn’t exactly seem to cover the extent of it all. He didn’t realise it had started pouring rain, or that he had started to violently shiver from the cold, until Uma had appeared directly in front of him with that worried crease in her brow. He was seemingly deaf to the world as she had spent the past fifteen minutes calling his name from the front porch of the house until finally stumbling into the storm to find her idiotic friend.  
“Harry!” She’d snapped, spotting him atop a low wall, facing away from the house at the bottom of the long garden. The pirate hadn’t responded, but she could see his body convulsing from the cold from her spot a few yards away. She went to him, taking his hands and helping him down, ranting about the cold and her needed for a first mate, not an ice cube. She helped him into the house carefully, leading him upstairs as he dampened the ancient carpet along the hall. When he finally spoke his voice was distant, slurred.  
"Why's the room spinnin'?"  
She hadn't seen him so wasted in a long time. She thought his tolerance had upped a little considering... well, everything. Espcially the practice he’d gotten while consuming the countless bottles of alcohol he’d stashed over the past few months. Slowly, she starts to realise he had been absent from most of the day's activity since their discussion; journey planning, their morning crew meeting, the midday outing to the village, lunch, dinner... _god, where had he been?! Had he been drinking since the morning?_

Uma glanced up at his face, his dark hair lay stuck to his forehead, so drunk now that his icy eyes were glossed over. He stumbled into the doorframe of his room, hissing a little, straightening as his hand goes towards his belt, attempting to pull his blade free,  
"Blasted… fiend!" He slurs, as threateningly as he could with a hand accidentally knotted into his belt. Uma rolled her eyes and nudged him into the room.  
"Okay, easy tiger. No slaying tonight."  She removed his belt carefully, laying it down on the trunk at the end of his bed before helping him steady himself. She swore, Harry Hook would be the death of her.  
"Ye never let me have any fun, ye know that?" He whined.  
Uma hummed dismissively, looking up at him. Saying he looked wrecked was a gross and unjust understatement, the boy looked destroyed. And he’d surly be dying by the morning, if not from a hangover then from the flu. She shook her head and helped him get his jacket off, hanging the thing up. The material was soaked through; she could only imagine how cold was. Uma returned to his side with a towel, laying it down for him to sit on, her hand brushes his arm, covered completely in goosebumps. She straightens, looking up at him. "In the name of the seven seas, what are you doing to yourself, Hook?"  
He shrugs wobbly, leaning down to look into her eyes, "Nothin', cap’n."  
She gives him a sad gaze, her lips turning inward for a moment. It was hard for her, seeing Harry so utterly fucked up.  
"Come on, try sit down. Slowly."  
Harry's eyes trace his captain's sad ones as he sits, he does so, with such a lack of grace that even he himself felt the urge to laugh. He remains quiet as Uma helps him navigate his bootstraps and shirt buttons until he was left with only his britches. His skin was damp and near white, the tips of his fingers red as the blood rushes back to them. Harry's hand finds its way to Uma's jaw gently as she leans over him to pull down the covers of his bed. She stills, giving him a questioning look. He thinks hard about the words as he speaks.  
"Captain... Uma." He mumbles, "Would ye stay?"

She nods mutely, he'd never actually asked her outright before. Normally she'd wind up in his room by habit of checking in on his drunken, sleeping figure to make sure he wasn’t choking on his own vomit or had ended up on the floor of his cabin. On the ship, waking curled up at the end of his bed to Gil's soppy face smirking at them both in the early light was the norm.  
Hook leans over, aiming to place a chaste kiss to the sea witch's lips. But she makes him pause, her finger placed on his mouth gently.  
"I am _not_ kissing you with your damn tequila breath."  
She leans over, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, and must have Harry felt statistics enough, because within seconds his body was limp, an arm throne across her stomach, his head in the crook of her neck. As he snored quietly she sighs, stroking the boy's soaked hair gently. It was at times like this she felt so close to Harry that she could nearly become him. She could feel every pain, every upset he had ever stumbled across. She rarely held him, but when she did she knew she had the world in her hands.  
"Sleep soundly, Hook. It'll all feel better in the morning."

* * *

_Harry’s wild eyes wandered over the scene before him excitedly, oh, how he loved a good riot! He couldn’t help but laugh in delight when the front windows of Frollo’s Creperie were smashed through. Just another day on the Isle for Harry, Uma and their motley crew. Harry jumped atop one of the tables, pulling menu boards off the walls and throwing them across the room, kicking one in half as he throws his head back with a feverish yell. He jumped to the floor, pulling his hook heavily along the glass front of a display case, leaving a gashed scrape along the clear surface._  
_Smirking, he spots Uma across the room, cutlery gathered in her arms as she and launches it across the room, narrowly missing some patrons and waiters as they ducked out of the way._  
_“Hey!” One of the wait staff shouted as Harry shoved his way behind the counter._  
_“Alright?” Harry grins charmingly, swinging his hook at the man’s head and clapping him above the ear once. He hit the floor with a slump, Hook stepping over him with a giddy chuckle._  
“Oi, blue.” He snaps, spotting the back of a girl’s head as she digs through the register, “Hands off.”  
She turns, her hair bouncing around her as she raises an eyebrow at Harry. He hums, she ignores him, shoving the wad of cash into her pocket as he steps closer. Hook towered over her by a handful of inches, even with her donning her little heeled boots, and eight foot attitude.  
_“Out of my way.” She sneers, her chin tilted high, they circle each other, Harry’s hook pointing towards her. The tiara atop her head teased him, a pretty neck to ring, a wad of cash and a dainty little treasure to keep? Harry’s mouth all but watered._  
_“Don’t make me hurt ye now, princess.”_  
_"Try it.” She snaps, her eyes narrow._  
_Harry couldn’t deny it. She was beautiful, all fair skin and red lips; she was the stuff of late night teenage fantasies. The pirate eyed her closely, scanning her face, suddenly it clicked. He knew exactly who she was, her beauty gave it away in a second. Evie; the infamous Evil Queen’s only daughter._  


_Harry had heard of her, never quite getting the opportunity to allow himself the pleasure of her company considering she had only just been freed from her ten year banishment at the hand of Maleficent and her scummy brat of a daughter, Mal. He remembered Evie a young girl, all blue ringlets and bright smiles. He fancied her then, he’d spent the better half of her sixth birthday party admiring her from afar as his dad entertained the wee princess, and hell, now was no different. She looked up at him with a fire in her eyes, one that had him near breathless, the pair still circling each other slowly behind the counter. Harry almost forgot the chaos of his surroundings, suddenly ducking to avoid a flying plate that smashed against the wall just above his head. What was wrong with him? Focus, Hook._

_Evie giggled, the sound entering his ears and knotting in his chest; and Harry quickly realised it was her. Those eyes, the way she watched him so closely, it was all setting Harry completely off balance – and he loved it._  
“Uma’s hit, Uma’s cash.” He snarls, holding out his gloved hand, “Now, fork it over.”  
_Evie looks at the him, tilting her head as she rests her hand on her hip, clearly amused. “That’s cute. But if Uma wants the cash, she can come over here, and she can take it.”_  
_He frowns, she had guts, plenty of and confidence to spare. Harry couldn’t quite figure her out. She was small, but she was fierce. Her sultry eyes hadn’t left his through their entire exchange, most people were immediately intimidated by his burly nature and crazed eyes, but this little blue bombshell just wasn’t cracking._  
_"I’ll make you a deal.” She breathes. “If you can catch me, you can have it.”_  
_Harry smirks, “I’m going to enjoy this.”  
_ _She grins, grabbing a coffee pot and tossing it towards him. He jumps back, narrowly avoiding the hot liquid and splintering glass as it splashes over his boots, Evie slips out the back door, breaking into a run. With a glint in his eye, Harry laughs loudly, jumping over the coffee puddle to follow her._

* * *

Harry lets out a soft moan as he wakes up, a familiar, comfortable weight resting on him. He knew exactly who it wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the growing ache in his chest at the familiarity of the feeling. It had been a long while since he’d asked her to stay, even longer since he’d held her through the night. He stirs slightly, glancing down at Uma’s sleeping figure laying against his bare chest. He picked up a single braid, finding a feather from the downy pillows twisted into it. Harry smiles to himself quietly, gently undoing it from the tip and removing it, before re-braiding it slowly.  
Uma rolled closer, her cheek resting against his collarbone as she sleeps. He couldn’t help but look down at her, so close he could feel her breath, Harry adored her to the bone. Part of him would always love Uma, the bond between a captain and her first mate was unbreakable at best, but with Harry and Uma it was so much more. He remembered when they’d met how he’d immediately wanted to fall at the feet of the dark-skinned beauty. She had been so young, yet so like her mother, in both bravado and power. When she’d asked him to serve as her first mate he didn’t even hesitate to agree. It went against everything he knew; his family had been raised on the belief that the only true measure of success was how strong the crew you captained was. But Harry, though barely twelve when asked to fill the position, knew already he was as far from a Hook Family Success Story as he could get. As he lay with Uma, the anxiety slowly settles in Harry’s mind again, he growled softly in frustration, his brain couldn’t go five minute without somehow becoming frantic. “Helpless” was Harry Hook’s favourite self-descriptive term.  
He remembered a time when existing was so much easier. He would wake up, break some windows - or a good day, some bones - cause plenty of trouble with Uma and go to bed with a smile on his sneering face and his love in his arms. Being villainous was once so simple to him, now all he was good at was being fucked up. Harry had noticed how very quickly simple things, like being threatening or even just being piquant was becoming difficult. He remembered waking up for the first time on the _Lost Revenge_ , barely one week into their excursion, and just feeling nothing; he had no drive, no motivation to be or do or… exist.

Harry himself knew his instincts to be bad, to be truly evil, were still intact. There were times when he still enjoyed going in for a kill, hurting people who got in his way was a hobby. Harry had always lived in his insanity, as opposed to with it, he wore it like a badge of honour. But now, Harry was no longer just insane, he was hardcore, fully _gone_. For so long, his emotions were always under his own control, it was one of his greatest strengths, now he never knew what way he would wake up each day. Harry had never dealt with being denied, it was widely known that a Hook, especially Harry Hook, always got what he wanted. But, he wanted Evie, he wanted his father’s love, he wanted to be the best pirate to his ship, the best first mate to his captain… he wanted a lot of things that he seemed undeserving of now. Harry’s emotional instability, all of the hurt and the aching sadness, frustrated him to no end. He wished to channel it into anger but his depressive symptoms wouldn’t allow him such an easy release. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that this is who he was now.  
“You’re doing it again.” Uma murmurs, her fingertips grazing her first mate’s jaw gently. He looks down at her as she blinks the sleepiness out of her eyes.  
“And what am I doin’?” Harry asks, his voice sounding as rough as he felt.  
“ _Thinking_.” Uma sighs, sitting up and stretching as Harry groans. “Stop moving so fast. My head is spinnin’.”  
Uma glances over her shoulder, throwing him an unamused look, “I’m not surprised. You were buckled last night.”  
Harry shrugs to himself, moving his hands to the back of his head as he lays on his back. Uma hops up, pulling her boots on before tossing his shirt at him. She chuckles as he groans from beneath the material.  
“You have ten minutes to be up and appropriately dressed, we have the morning briefing before breakfast.”  
Harry removed the shirt from his eyes, watching as she sauntered from the room. He yawned as he sat up, running a hand through his messy hair.

Moments later, he wanders into the parlor to sit amongst the rest of the tired-eyed crew. Harry, perched upon the two seater beside Uma, received a mumbled greeting from Gil as he drops to sit on the floor by his legs, leaning his head on Harry’s knee gently, still half asleep.  
“Silence.” Uma demands, the last of the soft chatter fading away; all eyes on her. “We have an unmissable opportunity. Tonight is the first night of the Winter Festival.”  
Harry stares at the wall opposite, trying to focus on Uma’s words as she continues. “Corona is swimming in royalty, which means its swimming in coin and jewels. And as it happens, petty theft, in my humble opinion, is _severely_ underrated.”  
A chorus of agreements greet her statement, but Harry didn’t speak, for his eyes were locked on one crewman in particular; the younger of the Rocky Port brats. Only sixteen, and far too stupid for his own good. He was disinterestedly staring at the ceiling, barely listening to his captain as he sat across from Harry. His attitude set Harry’s jaw on edge. He growled lowly, watching him. One thing that ground on Harry’s nerves was disrespect, especially when it came to Uma and the crew. A crew was nothing without their captain; he knew it and he figured everyone else should too.  
“And so, we have plans to make.” Uma grins.  
_Pay attention, ye little swine, ye._ Harry was growing increasingly irritated with the kid, his eyes sharp on his lazy figure.  
“Tonight, we enjoy the festivities, paying particular attention to those with a good old fashioned five-finger-discount.”

Harry’s blood boils as the little hellion glances to the window, his eyes glazed. _Disrespectful little shite, look at yer captain when she speaks t’ye!_ The boy’s eyes finally land on Uma, a yawn escaping as she speaks. _Right._    
“Pick pocket, mug, intimidate… treat this evening however you please, but do _not_ come back empty handed.”  
Harry leapt to his feet, kicking the coffee table out of the way as he stalks to tower over the mite. His voice is low, threatening. He pulls the child up by his collar, walking him backwards to hold him against a bookcase. “Is the good captain boring ye, lad?”  
“W-w-what?” He stutters, looking up at Harry in shock. Harry’s eyes narrow as he glowers at the boy, who was trembling under his gaze. Harry’s anger flared further.  
“I said, is the captain boring ye, ye wee chit-”  
“Harry!” Uma barks. “Leave him.”  
“He’s not _listenin’_ te ye.” Harry snarls, not even glancing back to his captain, “He’s not got an ounce of respect for ye, captain.”  
Harry brings his hook to the boy’s throat, stroking the blade it over his skin, “Let’s teach you how to pay attention shall we, boy?”  
“Hook, Leave him. _Now._ ”  
The boy calls out him pain as Harry leans closer, grinning into the lad’s ear, “This has been comin t’ye for many turns of the moon, ye privileged little-“  
Gil appears at Harry’s side then, one strong hand on his shoulder, the other slipping between the blade and the boy’s throat, “Harry, stop. This isn’t right. Uma said leave him!”  
Harry ignores him, growling as he looks down at the trembling figure in his grasp, “Gil, _back off_.”  
“Let him free, you don’t have to do this. Come on, stop.”  
“Gil!”  
Harry lets out a grunt, seeing the determined glare on Gil’s face as he stands between the pair. The pirate shoves himself away, his eyes on Gil as he practically shakes with rage. The room falls into silence, par the young boy’s panting as he catches his breath. Harry simply raises his arms to his sides in brattish defeat, looking at Gil, then turning to look at Uma as she stared at him, her jaw set. He drops his arms, leaving the room in a wordless stalk. He retreats outside angrily, kicking over a bucket as he stomps through the garden, his fists balled up and his hook taunting him.

* * *

 

_“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Evie!” Harry seethes, following her to the bedroom window he had climbed through moments before. She fiddles with the stuck latch anxiously. “Tell me what happened!”_  
_“Leave me alone, Harry!” She snaps, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hiccups out a threat, “I will throw you from this tower if you don’t-“_  
_His arms wrap around her from behind, holding her tight to his chest as she sobs, cutting off her words. Harry wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in his absence, Evie had seemed fine this morning when she kisses him goodbye at the dock. Smiling when he’d mentioned his intentions to visit her later in the day, what had suddenly changed her mind about wanting to see him?_  
_She spins around in his grasp, her arms locking around his neck as she cries; loudly and messily. He held her close, on hand on her back and the other in her hair. Harry wasn’t good with things like these, emotions were not exactly a strong suit of his, but with Evie, he felt continually out of his depth and he’d gradually learned to just go with the flow and try his best._  
_“Hush, Evie, darlin', please, tell me what’s wrong.” He mumbles, calmly kissing her temple as she sniffles, pulling back from his chest to meet his eyes. He’d never seen a soppier sight than his treasure with puffy, teary eyes and swollen lips._  
_“M-my mother knows.” She whispers, her eyes shutting, “S-she’s forbade me from ever seeing you again.”_  
_Harry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. They both knew the time would come eventually, but neither expected it to so soon! Evie’s mother had aired her dislike of pirates for as long as Evie could remember, and so when Evie and Harry found themselves in too deep barely three months after meeting, it was a safe bet to assume they were both terrified for the day her mother would discover exactly who had corrupted her little mirror-loving princess.  
_ _"Well…” Harry swallows, tilting her head so she would meet his gaze, “I’m here. You can see me, can’t you?”_

* * *

 

Later that evening, after Uma had forced a very reluctant Harry to return and shake hands with the little whelp he’d very nearly quartered earlier, the entire crew were wandering through Corona in little groups. Uma, he and Gil had ventured off on their own quite a while ago, they wandered together through the busy streets. The King and Queen had gone out of their way for this year’s celebration. Twinkling lights donned the air above the streets, hanging lanterns in soft blues and greens adorned every post. Streamers, balloons, costumed street performers and songs filled the crowd. Children ran between the clusters of people waving little sparklers in the air above their heads. Harry had found himself dodging them carefully a fair few times as he received a lengthy lecture from his captain.  
“I understand you’re dealing with a lot Harry, but that was simply _unacceptable_!” Uma growls, stalking ahead by two or so steps. Harry knew what he’d done was out of order, it was one of Uma’s few unspoken rules. You did not, under _any_ circumstance, attack a fellow crewman; idiot or not.  
“Apologies, captain.” Harry nodded, squeezing Uma’s hand gently before releasing it, “It won’t happen again.”  
“You bet your ass it won’t, Hook. Or I’ll have your ass on a row boat back to the Isle.”  
Harry knew it was an empty threat, but he didn’t pull her up on it, he’d caused enough - almost literal - bloody murder today. He just wanted her to relax and attempt to enjoy the festivities, if they were stuck here they could at least make the most of it. Harry was about to suggest them grabbing a seat in a local tavern when Gil suddenly freezes, his hand catching Harry’s jacket across his chest in a vice-like grip.  
Harry furrows his brows, looking up at him, “Gil, what are ye at?”  
Uma stopped dead in her tracks next to them, her breath catching as she murmurs, “ _Harry…_ ”  
The panic in her voice causes Harry to turn, facing forward, just a few feet away, she was there. Her skin glowing in the dim lantern light as she stood with a small crowd, chattering quietly. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered her, dark lashes framing those beautiful brown eyes, her lips painted their usual ruby red. She was like a doll, so perfect. Harry’s heart all but stopped as he stared at her. His shouldered tensed with an unreleased breath. She was so close; he’d felt like her very presence had hit him like a bus.

Then she turned, her eyes catching his; her smile faltering.


	5. "Beauty like a tightened bow."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Evie's turn to tell the tale. x

Long voyages were never Evie’s favourite way to spend a weekend, even less so through such treacherous conditions as those displayed during the present Winter. It was said to be the coldest in decades, and she very well believed it. After four lengthy days at sea, she’d spent nearly every moment of the three-day lead up to the festival between her bed and a hot bath trying to keep the heat trapped within her body. The last thing she wanted was to be ill during such a lovely event, and with so many activities, social gatherings and press events, it simply was not an option. She’d finally dragged herself from her cozy solitude in the early afternoon on day one of the official festival celebrations, and after spending an hour savouring a hot bath, she began dressing for the fun. She sat at her small vanity within the private guesthouse she’d been placed in, fresh lipstick applied and a slick coat of mascara adorning her dark eyes. She hums to herself as she places earrings into her ears, then reaches behind to close her heart pendant around her slender neck. A smiling face appears in the mirror behind her.  
“Here.” He smiles, his gold plated coat buttons reflecting the candlelight of the room gently, “Let me.”  
Evie lets him take the thin chain from her fingers, focusing on the little clasp as he closes it for her.

She and Lord Andrew; Prince of The Southern Isle, Protector of the South Western Moors and sixth Heir to the Southern throne, had met in early September at the East Riding Harvest Ball. She remembered it well. She was dressed head to toe in navy blue, her waist adorned with glittering gems and beading, it was one of her favourite designs she’d ever created, and _what_ a night for it to be debuted.  
Andrew was dazzled by the daughter of the Evil Queen as soon as he spotted her strolling into the lavish celebration with grace unparalleled. His heart was racing like a greyhound when he approached her sheepishly, asking if she would join him for a dance. She did, mostly to be polite, but also because she liked the glint of nervousness in his bright eyes, she found him endearing almost immediately.  
He was handsome, a _prince_ – though indeed, be it six times removed from any chance of a throne – and gracious to her as they spun around the floor together. They spoke freely, making childish jokes and laughing like two old friends. Evie felt the encounter had promise. But when their whirlwind courtship began before Evie had even realised it, she felt herself souring towards the strapping boy with the green waistcoat. Her mother was only ecstatic to have her drea- oh, her _daughter’s_ dream of marrying a prince finally coming true. Evie knew she should have been overjoyed. A prince, a _handsome, polite and endearing_ prince who favored equality, courage and kindness, wanted to court her!  
She knew she should have been joining her mother in her delight when she’d been asked to attend the Winter Festival alongside her new arm candy. She also knew she should most certainly not be comparing him to a certain pirate whom she’d lost a lifetime ago.

Andrew was indeed kind and courageous, altogether quite perfect, but Evie almost loathed him for it. As soon as he had begun to attempt to woo the girl she found him boring, suddenly totally uninteresting unless he had a sword in his hand or was on horseback. She felt it was the only time during which there was a sliver of hope she held for the otherwise bland lad. Her love life had become a business arrangement and it nauseated her. It was terrible, and the overwhelming guilt at her own ungratefulness was killing her, but she kept her mouth shut and smiled when necessary, allowed him to hold her hand and kiss her goodnight at her doorstep each time they parted ways.  
He was a prince, she was a princess, it should have all worked! But all Andrew seemed to ever do was smile, greet and talk politics. It made Evie want to scream! Whenever she accompanied him she watched quietly as droves fawned over him, chattering trade and bloodlines and utter bullshit! All the while she wanted to slap the poor boy and beg him to do something, _anything_ , that would make her head spin! She wanted excitement, she remembered as a girl imagining her prince, her love for him growing with the aid of adventure and spontaneity. This was definitely not her idea of a royal courtship; this was the most lame embodiment she could possibly imagine of her personal hell on earth.  
“You look beautiful this evening.” Andrew murmurs, smiling at her through the reflection.  
“Thank you.” Evie replies, fixing her hair before she stands, giving him a gracious, tight-lipped smile as he helps her put her jacket on. She takes his hand then, ready to go. She and Andrew, along with a gaggle of other royalty and nobility, were being given a tour of the city by the King’s royal historic advisor himself. Evie had always loved history, especially the monarchial kind, so being lead through castles, large estates and past village monuments was a delight, unlike the sub-freezing temperatures. She really was not made for such weather. Evie’s cheeks were constantly pink with the cold, her hands gloved to ensure she wouldn’t feel the chill through her as she stood with a handful of other festival go-ers admiring the twinkling lights as they shone above her head. She smiles to herself,

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”  
Andrew nods in response, his eyes only on the cobalt haired girl by his side.  
“Very beautiful indeed.”

She only hummed in response, closing her eyes as she let the chilled breeze wash over her face. It had been an evening of jubilee and celebration, but the princess was dying to get back to bed and retire with a glass of wine and her sketchbook. She was currently working on collections for various Auradon fashion houses, having being recruited after her obvious talents were picked up on by the queen’s style advisor while on an a “tour of inspiration” to the isle. The young princess had made quite a name for herself in the apparel world. As well as the gossiping world, her relationship with the Prince of the South seemed to be exceedingly interesting to everyone who wasn’t her.  
Her mother thought fashion design a wasteful hobby, why design the most expensive, divine gowns when you could just wear them? But it allowed her daughter to rub shoulders with some of the kingdoms’ brightest (and richest), rather than spending her days locked in her room dwelling on god knows what, and so the Evil Queen rarely complained. Evie wore one of her own designs that very evening, wanting to sit well with the locals, and get in some free advertising while she could. The navy blue waterfall coat sat snugly on her, accenting her tiny waist perfect. She’d gotten many compliments on it through the evening already, it made her pride and confidence swell even more than it had at the beginning of the night when she’d put it on. She felt there was nothing quite like someone complimenting her own hard work. She hugged the coat closer to herself, rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric, watching a street performer juggle across the street. It was then that a stiff feeling slowly crept over her, her shoulders squared immediately. Out of the corner of her eye she swore she could feel eyes on her. She scanned the crowd carefully, finally landing on a familiar face just a stone’s throw from her side. _Uma._

Evie didn’t understand, why on earth was Uma, of all people, here? She couldn’t have been invited, could she? Familiarity usually settled Evie’s nerves substantially, but as she glanced to Uma’s left her chest practically caved in on itself in shock. There Harry Hook stood, his eyes focused on her face as she struggled to gasp in a soft breath. She hadn’t seen him in eleven months, eleven long and burdensome months. Her whole body trembled as she stared at him.

He was undeniably still as handsome as she remembered, his eyes still the same icy blue as he watched her. He looked older, almost hardened. He’d lost weight, his face seeming thinner, almost slightly drawn. It made his cheekbones and much jaw sharper, his gaze more intense. She remembered times when she’d been pinned in place by that gaze. He’d always spoken volumes with those eyes. She scanned him quickly, new coat, nicer clothes, dark shadows still lining his eyes. She couldn’t fault him; he looked a million bucks, but Evie could feel there was an emptiness in the way he examined her. Though he had the same eyes she’d fallen in love with at barely eighteen, they were weary now, the ever-present spark of mischief within them had damped and gone out. She found herself walking towards him subconsciously, her trembling knees carrying her without much protest from the rest of her shocked figure. As she stood in front of him wordlessly she felt anguished tears prick in her eyes. She remembered the first time she’d recognised that vacancy in his regard. 

* * *

 

_Evie creeps into Harry’s cabin slowly, wanting to surprise him with a special belated birthday treat she’d made. Her apple crumble was a birthday tradition for she and Harry, she’d made it that afternoon using her mother’s recipe; minus the poison, obviously. The isle had few sweets, but her mother somehow always found a way to provide the ingredients when Evie mentioned the confection. After the events of the previous week involving Harry’s father she wanted to do something nice for her boyfriend. He’d been extremely down, and not at all acting like himself when they spent time together. He was distant, unusually quiet and seeming always thinking about something that caused his brows to crease and his eyes to hit the floor. As the princess tip-toed into the room, she accidentally kicked over a misplaced glass bottle, cursing lowly as it thudded and rolled._ _Clink._

_Evie frowned, turning to find Harry’s lantern to illuminate the room. As she twisted the flame alight she gasped softly, looking around the room, several bottles littered the floor, all freshly drained. Worry flooded through her as she rolled one over to check the shipment date; they were new. As she knelt, her eyes drifted to beneath Harry’s bed… more bottle, all empty. She didn’t know what to think, where to look. Had Harry been drinking with the crew? She counted quickly in her head; twelve bottles for twenty men… maybe they’d all celebrated his birthday with some casual drinking the previous night… and all the bottles just happened to end up there. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this._

_Just then, Harry stumbled through the door, his glassy eyes landing on Evie as she stood, baked goods and lantern in hand. He froze a little when he saw her, swallowing thickly._  
“Evie… It’s very late, princess.” Harry breathes, his voice soft. Evie knew he was drunk, but not his usually jolly, chattering drunk; She’d never quite seen him this way. “Not that I’m not ecstatic to see ye, I am… just, did ye walk here all alone?”  
_She shook her head, putting the lantern on his desk as she approached, leaning up to kiss him, his hand moving to rest on her waist. She could taste the bite of rum on his lips._  
_“Gil came and walked me.” She explained, nodding to the pie before she places it down, “I wanted to surprise you. Apple crumble; your favourite.”_  
_Harry looked down at her silently before moving a hand up to stroke her cheek, his voice pained as he murmured to her, “You are too good to me, treasure. Thank you.”_  
_Evie’s chest felt tight as he leaned down to kiss her hair gently, his eyes were so glazed, he seemed so… unlike himself, it set her far on edge. Her mind wared internally as he held her, his breathing shallow. She wanted to mention the bottles, but as he held her close, his body almost limp in her arms, she knew she couldn’t, not when he was in this state. So, she pushed the worry away, taking Harry’s hands in hers and leading him to bed. His eyes traced her face in the candle light as she did, and for the first time she noticed the dark, bruising circles under his eyes._  
_“Let’s rest. You look exhausted.”_  
_Harry nods softly, giving her a small smile, “Evie, I love ye.”_  
_She sits him on the bed gently, taking his face in her soft hands and responding with brushed kisses over his lips, forehead, eyelids and nose._  
_“I love you.”  
_ _Evie didn’t know it then, but the beginnings of Harry’s spiral had rocked him to the core, setting off a chain reaction that would be the demise of his entire sense of self._

* * *

 

Evie had thought long and hard about what she would say to him if she ever saw him again. She had thought about slapping him, straight up, to the point and across the face. She’d thought about simply ignoring him and striding past with her head held high, or confronting him in a scream and kicking up high hell. She’d never felt more hurt than the day she stalked off that ship in the pouring rain, Harry’s broken voice pleading with her to stay, to let him explain. But she could barely even _look_ at him, she could barely _breathe_.

_“Evie, please!” He’d begged, his voice rising to a shout as she ran down the gangway, her hair bouncing after her as the rain soaked her through. “Evie!”_

He’d never given her anything to go on as to why he did what he’d done, she knew he needed money, but he could’ve just asked her, they would have found a way. He didn’t have to lie to her, or use her mother and betray every trust she’d put into him when he’d asked her to be his. He didn’t have to cheat his way into getting what he needed alone; she would’ve helped him. She thought he knew that.  
What hurt Evie most was the insecurity he had left her with. She spent months doubting everything she’d previously felt so sure of. For days at a time she would lie restlessly in her chamber, her mind racing with questions of her worth, of her possible misinterpretations.  
_Was she not beautiful enough? Was she not intelligent enough? Did she really mean that little to him? Had she read their entire relationship wrong?_ Evie had been brought up with more faith in herself than most girls, mostly thanks to her mother’s overbearing urge to ensure her daughter was a model royal, a made-to-order wife for some lucky schmuck of a prince. And that was what Evie was, always poised, constantly certain, beautiful to boot and the holder of unrivalled household talents.  
  
After she and Harry had fallen out, she felt like she had left a large piece of herself on the ship that day, every sliver of pride she had was rebelling against her own uncertainty, but she knew he’d knocked her. He’d worn her down. And tragically, she knew the answers to her doubts already. She was indeed beautiful and clever, she was perfect for him – she was his end game, and he, hers. She knew they both loved one another so severely it could destroy them. It did destroy them.  
That was why his actions left her so empty. Why more than anything, she was filled with an irrepressible anger towards him. It was because of this anger that part of her wanted him to hurt the way she did, she wanted him to wake up every morning with the same bitter emptiness she felt. To doubt himself and their story in the same manor. They had always called themselves the exception, but it turns out, villains _don't_ get happy ever afters. Mostly, she _wanted_ him to achieve his goal in follow his father’s footsteps. As he would say, _blast it if it was all for nothing!_ He’d already taken the necessary steps with his new found love of binge drinking, the sudden emotional instability and unpredictable nature of his actions that he had displayed before their love came to a sour finale. He saw no consequence, he saw only want he wanted and the ways to get it. He’d sealed the deal when he broke her down, pulled her heart from her chest and danced on it. She hoped to god he was happy with himself, a true pirate now; selfish, cunning and heartless. _Just like his beloved father._

As she stood before him now she didn’t know what to do, every planned action or monologue she’d dwelled on lay forgotten in the back of her head when she looked up into those eyes. The closeness hatched so much anxiety within Harry’s chest that he could barely function, but somehow, words slipped from his lips.  
“Evie.” He murmurs, shocked at his own ability to speak, “Ye… it’s… this is strange.”  
“Very strange.” She whispers, pausing for a few seconds. “You look… different.”  
Harry’s own eyes burn with threatening tears as he looked down at her. Her hair was the same vibrant blue he’d remembered, her lips just as supple, skin still fair. She was gingerly admiring his features, her kind eyes wandering his face.  
“Ye look beautiful.”  
Evie breaks their intense eye contact suddenly, glancing to the floor. She looks up then, catching Gil and Uma, still flanking Harry, share an unreadable look.  
“Gil, Uma.” She greets politely, “It’s nice to see you again.”  
“Pleasure, Princess. I hope you’re enjoy the festival.” Uma nods, her eyes narrowed on the princess. Gil remains silent, giving her a small smile. After a few beats of silence, Evie speaks softly.  
“What are… What are you all doing here?”  
“We had to disembark.” Harry explains, his voice distant as he watches her closely. “The weather… the seas were too dangerous to sail; too risky.”

Evie glances up at him, an unanswered question on her lips, “You’re still sailing?”  
Harry nods. The almost cold, casual nature of the conversation was so unnatural to him. He and Evie were always laughter, jokes and whispered confessions as they strolled the streets of the isle together. Now every word was laced with things left unsaid.  
_I’m sorry. I love ye. I miss you. Forgive me._  
_You left. Ye ran. You didn’t see your mistakes. Ye never understood._ __  
“Put my mother’s mirror to good use, at least.” She snarks halfheartedly, her eyes switching to look at the pirate.  
Harry’s eyes drift shut in total shame, his face a picture of regret as he sighs, “Evie, ye know I never wanted to hurt ye.”  
Evie turned, about to protest but the pained look on his face showed nothing but remorse. She knew he was speaking truth. She knew he had indeed loved her. He’d fallen victim to his intense feelings for her more times than she could count, between their days out in the market place to their evenings on the beach and their nights in his bed, he had repeatedly mumbled into her ear about how much he craved and adored her. Evie knew what she felt for him was real, and she knew wholeheartedly he felt the same way.

Uma moved to step in, her mouth opening to unleash upon the cheeky girl with a pointed finger. Then Evie feels a hand at her waist, a mouth at her ear. 

“Evie, darling?” Andrew’s soft drawl murmurs, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we must be getting back.”  
Harry’s jaw automatically tenses at the sight of the tall blonde moving to Evie’s side. His eyes dart between the princess and the stranger. He was broad and fair, with green eyes, thick lashes and a sturdy chin. He wore the royal crest of the Southern Isles on his gold-buttoned coat beneath his open winter jacket. He spoke to her intimately, his body fitting to hers automatically – as if by habit. As far as Harry knew, habits took a fair while to set in.  
Harry immediately disliked the blondie swine.  
The princess glances up at Andrew and nods softly, his hand taking hers gently by her side. His eyes peered down at her curiously as he took in her nervous stature, as if asking a silent question.  
“I’ll be along in a moment.” She replies, her eyes dropping to their joined hands as he places a lingering kiss on her temple and excuses himself, nodding politely to the three adjacent to them. He misses the blank face of Harry Hook staring at him, wondering what exactly it would take for the ground to swallow him whole right now. His eyes shift back to Evie, begging, pleading with some sort of explanation from the princess.  
_Maybe he was her cousin? Her very attentive, attractive, cousin who was fond of kissing her?_  
Harry’s heart breaks in his chest. He can feel the shards of flesh slicing through him all over as he takes in the light blush on Evie’s cheeks. The silence between them stretches on. He wishes she’d say something – anything – that would imply this wasn’t exactly what he thought it was.  
“It was nice to see you.” Evie murmurs, her eyes avoiding the wide eyes of the three opposite. “Goodnight.”  
Harry dragged a forlorn breath through his gritted teeth, his eyes locked on the slim sapphire beauty as she walked away from him yet again.


	6. "Was there another Troy for her to burn?"

The walk home from the village on that cold night was completely silent. Neither Gil nor Uma had spoken much since their encounter with the princess, too much in shock to register the weight of the situation. Harry hadn’t spoken at all, feeling every singular gram of that bountiful weight sitting heavily on his chest. He remained a few steps behind the rest, his eyes on the floor as he numbly played follow the leader. Harry couldn’t quite get the image of her eyes avoiding his out of his memory; the way she shifted uncomfortably when he spoke of how beautiful she was; it was so out of character. He felt like he’d been placed in the wrong storybook, he and Evie shouldn’t be speaking so curtly, cringing at compliments and shying away from each other… he didn’t know what narrative this was, but he didn’t want to be the protagonist anymore.  
When they arrive home, most of the crew are still up drinking, but Harry feels even too numb to place a bottle to his lips. He’s spent, in every way a man can be. He’s just… tired. The pirate trudges lightly up the stairs, leaving his best friend and captain to stare up as he goes, their brows knitted together worriedly. Uma slowly turns to Gil, who simply takes her hand and pulls her to his chest, stroking her hair as they hear Harry cross the hallway above.

Upstairs, Harry kicks off his boots and removes his jacket, placing them away before crawling into bed still half-clothes, hiding under the covers. He doesn’t cry, despite expecting to. He just lies there, staring at the wall with the blankets curled around him. He’s not sure how much time passes, to him it feels like both mere seconds and long hours. But when the chatter from below finally fades to tired footsteps and silence, he knows he won’t be sleeping much. Harry glances to his nightstand, spotting his favourite iron trinket box. He’d taken it with him from the ship, not trusting those useless locks on the cabin doors. The content was far too precious and thieves were far too curious. He remembers every item he’d ever placed in that box. There were few, but they carried so many memories that the box seemed to be bursting at the seams. Harry sits up slowly, pulling the small box onto his lap. If he wasn’t going to feel the numbing safety of sleep, he could at least dwell on his memories for some solace. He flicks the number-coded lock to the right combination, 918. _The Lost Revenge’s registry number._ Hearing a soft click, as the lid sprang up. Harry timidly reaches into the box and removed the first thing his fingers touched.   
He looks down at the small golden ring in his hand, a thick band adorned with an anchor, engraved with roped patterns lacing its entirety. Harry strokes a fingertip fondly over the ring, remembering the day Harriet presented he and CJ with them on her twenty-first birthday, just days before she set off to lead her crew in their maiden voyage. 

* * *

_“Father is beside himself.” CJ grins, lazing about on their sister’s old bed, her cabin now almost entirely packed up in light of her immanent departure. “He’s telling everybody; you know? ‘Our Harriet Hook, off to conquer the world!’… Oh, it’s all terribly exciting!”  
_ _Harry smiles at CJ as he stands by the bedpost, leaning his weight on it. He was deathly proud of his older sister; she was finally doing as she’d been destined to since her birth. He envied her partly, wishing he could join her on her travels around the seven seas. But his time would come; he was certain of it.  
“Would anyone expect anything less than greatness from our golden sister?”  
_ _“Oh you two are insufferable, do you know that? I can’t wait to finally leave so I don’t have to listen to your incessant blathering!” Harriet grins, joking playfully with the pair, “Now, if you two can shut it for a second, I have a present for you both.”  
_ _Harry raises a brow as he watches her, her blue eyes glinting excitedly as she skips to her vanity and pulls out two small hemp bags.  
_ _“Ye shouldn’t be giving us presents on yer birthday.” Harry murmurs, smiling at her as she passes them one bag each. Harriet simply rolls her eyes as CJ opens the drawstrings eagerly, pulling out a dainty golden ring. The youngest Hook gasps, smiling widely as she admires it.  
_ _“Oh, Harriet! This is beautiful.” She grins, looking up at her older sister; clearly enthralled with the small trifle. Harry fishes out an identical ring, admiring it’s ornate detailing. Harriet had clearly spent a lot of time and money on the pieces. The eldest daughter of Hook sits between her siblings, displaying her own ring on her flinger as they look to her.  
_ _“To keep us together when I go.” She nods simply, making Harry’s heart sink. He would miss her, she always showed him kindness, despite her father’s constant disgust at her for it. When she had grown, realizing how wrong her father was about Harry, she vowed to love him as fiercely as she could… simply to try to provide him with some sort of familial bond. He was her baby brother, and no matter what, she would protect him to her best ability – as she would with young CJ. Harry feels tears welling in his eyes, but he quickly blinks them back before looking to the girls as he slides the ring onto his finger.  
_ _“I’ll miss ye, Captain.” He mutters, fondly using her childhood nickname, taking his sister's hand in his own when he notices the large tears filling her eyes._

* * *

 Harry pulls the ring into his palm, squeezing it gentle before laying it back in the box. _Gods above did he miss his sisters_. Since his father’s repudiation of his only son, neither Harriet or CJ were allowed to associate with him. The last time he’d seen CJ had been heart-wrenching, he remembered it so clearly it hurt to even try to think back. She’d moved to rush to his side before their father took a sharp hold of her shoulder from their spot across the town square back on the isle – days before Harry’s maiden departure. Hook roughly stopped the young girl in her tracks as she let her eyes fall to the floor, then had ushered her away before Harry could stop to say “da”. Harriet had been longer still, seeing her last the day on the dock as she left for her fate at sea. Five long years.  
Harry gulps in a shuddering breath as he reaches into the box again, finding a wilting scrap of paper meeting his calloused fingertips. He pulls the dog-eared parchment from the box, his hands trembling lightly. He knew what it was, how could he not? He unfolded the paper gently, his eyes scanning the words, as if he didn’t already know them by heart.

**“CAPTAIN JAMES B HOOK REQUESTS THE PRESENCE OF HARRY J HOOK ABOARD THE JOLLY ROGER FOR A FORMAL SUPPER ON THE EVE OF NOVEMBER FIRST SEVEN PM SHARP”**

The telegram contained barely thirty words, but Harry could barely read them without choking up viciously. He’d received it on the night of his twenty-first birthday, the day before said supper would take place, while at the chip shoppe with Evie and the crew. They had been celebrating his entrance to adulthood with some drinking and fun. The prospect of meeting with his father in a formal setting had excited him initially. He remembered the hope he’d felt, the hope that had soured quickly after he’d boarded the _Roger_ the following evening. That piece of paper had changed everything, and honestly, Harry was unsure as to why on earth he kept it. He could never bring himself to throw it away.   
He folds the paper away neatly, tucking it to the back of the box, where he finds something shining and silver. He smiles to himself as he pulls out the length of chain Smee had gifted him when he was a boy, how he’d held onto it for so long he would never know, but he had. It felt special to him, and Smee had always shown him kindness, even after the events of that fateful supper. He latches the chain around his wrist with sad eyes, watching it twinkle against the dull oil lamplight.  
It’s then that he spots it. His heart sinking low in his chest as he leans forward, straightening up. The magic mirror glints back at him, glowering at him disappointingly, almost disapprovingly eying the pathetic pirate. Present only to remind him of his many foolish mistakes.  
“ _Evie._ ” He murmurs, picking it up carefully. It was still pristine, having been untouched since Evie had found it in his room. He could never trade it; he couldn’t bring himself to. It would be like trading her away. He’d never told anyone that, both Uma and Gil assuming he’d gotten rid of it in a game of poker or in a trade-off for straight cash. But truthfully, he had never let it out of his sight. He places the mirror back in the box with a painfully thick swallow, putting his head into his trembling hands. That blasted mirror was how he’d managed to lose her. 

* * *

 

Evie had never felt so restless in her entire life. The entire journey back to Ambersend house had been spent trying to catch her breath and jiggling her leg in discomfort. She’d been completely thrown off balance by the sight of Harry Hook tonight, she wasn’t ready to deal with the range of emotions she’d suppressed over the past year suddenly tumbling violently over her. It was all _too much_. She found her dress suddenly sat too tight, her hair in her face and her jacket too heavy. She felt completely unlike herself, she felt exactly the same as she did the day she ran from the _Lost Revenge_ in floods of tears. It was like her whole life was airborne, and it was reflecting in her unusual mannerisms, so much so that even Andrew and the coachmen had noticed her heightened anxieties as they disembarked the lavish carriage at their lodgings. When they were finally free of intruders or unwanted evesdroppers, Andrew placed a hand on her arm gently, cautious.  
“Are you alright?” He asks softly, “You’ve been acting strange, darling.”  
Evie looks up at him desperately, her eyes searching his face as they stand in the entrance way. Her mind raced as she moved to answer, but was then unable. She rises onto her toes, pressing her mouth to Andrew’s heatedly, begging him for a magical display of passion, desire or anything at all she could place her faith into. She needed to be eased, quickly, she was questioning everything she’d been sure of yet again.  
 _And it was all down to that damn pirate!_

Andrew catches her waist in shock, kissing her back when his surprise leaves him. Evie was rarely forward with the prince, always keeping an air of distant mystery. The prince was quite unsure how to take her. Trying as he may to keep up, Andrew couldn’t. Evie was a livewire in his hands and he was missing the cues. She pushes him against the closed front door, her lips hesitating for a moment. She pulls back after a few more desperate seconds, leaving Andrew startled as he looks down at her. She was panting, but not from the mistaken kisses, that much Andrew understood. She looked thoroughly panicked. He reached for her, his brow furrowed with concern.  
“I… Goodnight, your highness.” She murmurs, curtsying quickly before turning in a flash of blue and taking the stairs three at a time to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her as her chest heaves violently.  
“Dammit, Harry.” She whimpers, sliding down to the floor as she feels tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t realise how much she had missed him until the shock of seeing him had worn off. Now, it was like a hole had erupted in the center of her chest, suddenly breathing without him was an almost impossible task. She sniffles, hiding her face in her hands as she cries, letting everything she’d held within her for nearly a year escape She slobbered, cried, gasped and panted, her body convulsing as she vents it all as the image of the distraught boy who loved her, the boy who had many times sworn to give her the world and more, plagued her mind. She still loved him, and it had taken her far too long for her to admit it to herself.

* * *

 

 _Harry’s hand twines with hers as they enter the main ballroom of Hell Hall, he was wary of his surroundings, Evie could tell by the way his shoulders were set.  
_ _“Relax,” she whispers to him, her eyes on his for second, “Please.”  
_ _It had been Carlos’ idea to invite Harry to his birthday ball, after having discussed it with Mal and Jay, of course. They all saw how happy he’d been making their sapphire-haired best friend, and wanted to at least try to make an effort with the pirate, for Evie’s sake. Bridges had been burned and mended for less than love.  
_ _“Carlos!” Evie grins, dragging Harry by the hand through the hall to her friends as they crowd the make-shift bar. She throws her arms around him eagerly, grinning. “Happy birthday!”  
_ _Harry offers him a polite grin, his voice low, “Happy birthday, Carlos, and thanks for the invite.”  
_ _Evie had originally politely declined the invitation on Harry’s behalf prior to even asking him, but when Harry had found out he shrugged off the event and agreed to attend at his own accord._ _  
__“It’d be bad form to not show.” He’d explained while they lay in bed one night, Evie pressed to his side. “It was good of him to invite me.” Evie was shocked to say the least.  
_ _Mal eyes the pirate cautiously as Jay subtly puffs out his chest. Evie smiles up at him, returning her hand to his. Harry wants to roll his eyes at the son of Jafar, square up to him and prove who was really the bigger man, but he promised himself he’d make an effort for Evie. They didn’t have to like him, but he wouldn’t be the one to give them a reason not to.  
“Anyone want a drink?” Mal offers, shoving a glass of green liquid towards the pirate, “Harry? C’mon, newcomers first! Trust me, it’s good. Made them myself.”  
_ _Harry nods, thanking her as he takes the glass, eyeing it cautiously along with Evie. Jay and Carlos share a glance. It was definitely unlike Mal to be so forward, he’d expected her to sulk in the corner and glare at him for the evening like a petulant child._  
“For god’s sake it’s not poisoned, do you really think I’m that predictable?” Mal snarks, frowning at each of them. They each laugh and take a glass, politely toasting to Carlos, wishing him a wicked birthday and a year of new beginnings.

_Later that evening as Harry walks Evie home, a funny feeling takes over the princess’ chest. She stops them, tugging Harry to her chest.  
“You were amazing tonight.” She murmurs, stroking his cheek. “I know it was weird for you, but I appreciate it. I want our friends to at least be able to stand in the same room someday… this is a great start.”  
Harry smiles down at her, stroking her cheek fondly. “Well, they’ve yet to be reacquainted with the crew. And Uma. Don’t get too ahead of yourself with the positivity, I can see a very interesting chat between Mal and the fair Captain going down.”  
Evie laughs, “Yeah. Baby steps are best, I think.”  
_ _Harry smiles, leaning down to kiss her, their lips soft as they touch. That was the night Evie realised how much Harry Hook truly loved her. He was willing to put aside his pride, and make an effort to be civil with her friends. She knew he hated Mal with a burning passion ever since the incident between she and Uma when they were kids, and she had always though it would be extremely unfair for her to ask him to go against his loyalties to Uma and be buddy-buddy with her friends simply because he was dating her. She’d silently decided at the beginning of their courtship that she never would. But Harry, unpredictable in every aspect of the term, had taken it upon himself to make the effort tonight. And though nothing had been fixed and the past had not been erased, Evie knew that her friends had at least gained a quantity of respect for her boyfriend, and she herself had realised just how lucky she was to be on the arm of one Harry J. Hook._

* * *

 

The next morning Evie slips out of the house early, needing to be away from the confines of her room, and not wanting to face Andrew after he behavior the night before. She walks with a blue woolen scarf wrapped closely to her neck, the same blue coat from the night before synched tight around her shivering frame. She finds herself wandering towards the beach, her feet leading her without much interruption from her better sense. The coast winds would be fierce, but she didn’t care, she just needed space to breathe, somewhere she could think and try to organize her thoughts.  
As she walks she notices the snow from the evening before had frozen over. She knew a thicker layer of sleet was expected again today, the never-ending winter seeming still living up to its name. As she walked she felt her cheeks become cold, expecting them to be tinted pink.  
She reaches the crossroads at the edge of Corona when she spots a familiar red coat ahead of her on the path, walking her way. Her heart began thudding heavily in her chest. She knew those shoulders, that shade of red was all too familiar, it was him, undoubtedly. Harry. She debated calling his name, or turning and running back to the safe haven of her locked bedroom, but she could neither move nor speak, only stare as he approached slowly. Her mind was screaming for closure but her heart still too weak to be broken again. 

She chews at her lip gently as he notices her, stopping in his tracks  
“Harry.” She murmurs, her pace slowing as they meet at the crossroads. His pace slows as he hears her voice, sees her pale skin against the morning fog, his face becoming clearer as they step closer. She sees those tired eyes squinting against the cold air as he gives her a polite smile.  
“Good morning, your highness.” Harry nods to her softly. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, not that she had either.  
“Out for a morning walk?” She asks, her eyes searching his face for some sort of happiness to see her. It was there, the familiar tilt at the corner of his lips. She knew he was happy to see her, somewhere deep down.  
“Couldn’t sleep.” Harry sighs, his eyes moving to the path beneath. “Too much te think about.”  
“I’m glad I’m not alone in that, then.” She nods, his eyes meeting hers as she sighs, “Yesterday threw me seeing you, it just… threw me.”  
“I wasn’t expecting you either.” He tosses back, “It was hard for me to…”  
As he trails off she nods, understanding him without needing an explanation. They were in the same place, mourning a relationship neither of them were ready to end.  
“Walk with me?” Evie asks softly, hopeful. Harry hesitates for a moment before giving her a curt nod, Evie can’t hide the remnants of a soft smile that slips across her features.

The pair walk in silence for a few moments, side by side on the narrow path. Evie is the first to speak, her eyes on the horizon.  
“So the pirate’s life is suiting you?” She asks, her voice light as they wander down the winding road towards the ocean.  
“The sea has always been good to me, as have the crew. It’s my home now.” Harry murmurs, nodding, “What have about you? Still living on the Isle?”  
Evie hums, her hands rubbing together for warmth as she speaks.  
“Still living on the Isle. Sort of. Six months on, six months off. I go to Auradon between seasons, it’s my busiest time. You probably haven’t heard but I’m a designer. I actually have a few of my own collections.” She explains, hesitating, “It’s partly the reason I’m here, as well as acting as accompaniment for my… suitor.”  
Harry’s eyes snap to her face, trying to hide the hurt, “Oh.” He mumbles, nodding.  
Of course she had men lining up to woo her, what did he expect? She was a vision. He guessed he was the swine from the night before. Undoubtedly a prince; handsome, noble and strong. Altogether perfect for Evie, he’d be kind to her, keep her safe in the biggest castle in the sixteen kingdoms. Harry’s curiosity escaped his control before he even realised he’d spoken.  
“Who’s the lucky swine then?”  
“Um. Prince Andrew of the Southern Isles.  
Harry frowns, his mind ticking over for a moment. “He’s… eight in line to the Southern throne.”  
“Sixth.” She corrects quickly, frowning, but for the first time, not at Harry. Several seconds pass as she stares at him, his eyes glinting at her. His quirked brow spoke a thousand words as they both stare at each other before she cracks a little smirk, the pair bursting into laughter.  
“ _Sixth_ , then.” Harry chuckles, shaking his head at her. She had always been a stickler for factuality, but even Evie knew being sixth in line to a throne meant little. As their laughter dies down, and they both fall into comfortable silence, Harry felt a warmth he’d been without for a long time. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while.

Evie sighs softly, knowing what had to come next. She had so much she wanted to say, so many words flittering in her mind all waiting to spill from her.  
“I’m still angry.” She murmurs, making Harry look her way again, “In fact, I’m _furious_. You completely betrayed me, Harry. Wronged me in the worst way anyone ever could, and worse still, days later you just… vanished. You skipped out and never returned and I was left to…”  
She trails away, sighing softly. Harry remains quiet, letting her speak. He expected she had a lot more to say to him. He knew he had hurt her, though he had never intended to. He felt like it was her right to help him understand how much.  
“When you left and I remember just standing on that stupid dock, watching you go and I just felt like a total fool. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed myself be so unguarded, so naive to think that you loved me as much as you claimed. I spent months asking why: Why you left me, why you stole from me, why I wasn’t enough for you to be happy with. I questioned myself, my looks, my mind, my whole being. I just needed to know _why_ … and somehow seeing you last night just made it all click. It wasn’t me – _it was never me!_ It was you.”  
There are hot tears in her eyes as she continues, her voice trembling as she swallows down a sob. Harry’s own eyes are set on his feet, shame covering him like a dark, billowing cloak.  
“You were the one who chose to leave, you chose to betray me, lie to me and steal from my family. You were the one who wasn’t enough, Harry. At least you never felt like you were... and it destroyed us.”  
Harry swallows thickly, looking at her for the first time, she wasn’t facing him, instead was looking out to the ocean ahead of them, having reached the end of the path. The beach stretched out widely before them as she finishes in a choked whisper, her tears free falling.  
“But Harry, you were _always_ enough.” 

As Harry looks down at her, he feels thick tears slipping down his own cheeks, gasping in a breath. It filled his lungs to such an expanse that Harry almost felt like they had been refused air for months.  
“I’m so sorry, Evie.” He whispers, shaking his head, “I know no apology will ever give ye back what I took from ye, but it still needs to be said. Ye were the best thing I ever had, and I fucked it. I’m sorry, for hurting ye, for not treating ye as you deserve, and for letting my own insecurities destroy what we’d created. I’m nothing if not the biggest eejit to ever have walked this land for allowing you to slip through my clumsy fingers. I’ve spent every single day since missing ye, hoping somehow I’d see ye again and I could grovel and beg for your forgiveness. I'm not asking for ye to come back, or to lower your guard to me... all I'm asking for is a chance. Just one. Please.”  
He steps forward to take her hand in his, bringing her knuckles to his lips gently. He kisses them, once, holding them to his lips as he sniffs back his tears. Evie hiccups a little sob, nodding to him.  
“I’ve never stopped loving ye, treasure.”  
Evie laughs out incredulously, shaking her head. She knew that. She always knew.

“I have never stopped loving you, Hook.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> My heart aches knowing I've put this story to rest... though the ambiguity of it all is rather compelling.  
> Perhaps an epilogue may have to be explored at a later date.  
> Thank you all for your kindnesses and patience, and thank you for helping me to craft this universe.  
> I love ye all.


End file.
